


Infiltration

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Addiction, Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Come Swallowing, Emotional Infidelity, Endgame Sheith, Jealous Shiro, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Control, Oral Fixation, Recovery, Sheith happy ending guarantee, Size Difference, Whump, eventual hurt/comfort, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-01-05 18:32:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 67,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18371711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After Shiro's wedding, Keith starts hooking up with a blade agent.Little does he know how dangerous that Galra truly is.[sheith happy ending guarantee]





	1. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't do multichapter or non-con, so this one is anonymous.  
> Please read the tags, Trak's chapters are from the perpetrators perspective and the abuse will be presented gratuitously!!

Trak thought it would be harder to trap the black paladin, but watching Keith on his knees trying desperately to suck him down, he realizes it was just a matter of timing.

That is, swooping in the second after that Atlas captain said 'I Do' to someone else.

Keith had been a mess, had been far too deep into drink and despair to make good choices for himself. It had been the opportunity Trak had been looking for.

They’d done missions together, worked together regularly enough that he was a comfortable and stable presence to Keith. Enough that when he offered to walk Keith back to his room that night everyone let Keith go with him.

It was almost too easy then to get Keith in the bed, slide his cock out of his dress pants and down Keith’s throat. They’d done some casual groping in the elevator and down the hall, just enough to make Keith hot and pliant.

Trak remembers that first time fondly. Keith’s cherry red lips straining and swollen around the purple head. The way Keith's eyes grew more glazed even as his sucking grew more frenzied. It was what Trak's come did to most species, left them punch drunk and wanting more.

It had caused Trak a lot of problems in his adolescence, but now he couldn’t be more grateful. Just a little lick and now he knows he has the black paladin for as long as he wants him.

That first night after he’d come down Keith’s throat he’d left the man hazy and alone in the bed. It had been a satisfying enough orgasm, made better by the knowledge that in the morning Keith would track him down. That the blade wouldn’t know why exactly, but he’d be practically itching to get his mouth back on Trak's cock.

Weeks in and it was still getting better every time. Keith was too small to take his whole cock in his mouth, but he’d come up with lots of flourishes and techniques that drove Trak crazy. As dedicated as he was in blade work, when Keith applied it to sucking cock he was not to be rivaled.

It was almost as good as the jealousy that had started radiating from the Atlas captain.

Trak thrusted in hard and held his cock there, letting Keith whine and his throat flutter around him.

“You’re so perfect,” he crooned. 

Keith tried to swallow, eyes glossy and desperate for his come.

He hoped the damage to Keith’s voice would be enough to capture the Captain's attention. If he remembered right Keith had a meeting with him after this.

He slid back so Keith could breathe and then started to pick up the pace. Fisting that beautiful dark hair, Trak moved Keith just the way he wanted, watching his fat length move in and out. There would be no way of missing how swollen his lips were, no missing that Keith had spent the previous half an hour diligently sucking cock.

Trak almost wished he was going to the meeting, that he could see the Captain's expression when he took in Keith’s well-fucked face.

The thought dragged his orgasm closer, made the head of his cock swell, locking it behind Keith’s teeth.

“Yeah, fuck babe I’m so close.”

The words and the feeling of swelling inside his mouth drove Keith to frenzy. Weeks of dosing had made the addiction all encompassing and heady.

Trak now had the famous black paladin on his knees sucking and begging for his come. Had Trak ever made a better decision?

“You’re such a slut,” he spat, shoving into the space he could still move, eyes glued on the stretch of that mouth, the tears glistening down Keith's cheeks. “Going to swallow me down kit? Don’t miss a drop.”

Keith whined, pushed to his limits but still desperate for it.

It pushed Trak finally over the edge.

He came in gorgeous waves, filling Keith’s mouth until the man couldn’t swallow fast enough and it leaked out of his mouth and down his face. Trak moved his cock in millimeters as he crested, massaging out every last wave of pleasure against Keith’s tongue and palette. Every time it was a rush, feeling the young blade swallow and choke on him. Knowing with every spurt of his come he was weaving the web deeper and deeper. He hadn't ever been with someone so young, so beautiful, so innocent. It was so hot ruin him, make him beg for it.

When he finished coming his cockhead was still swollen to keep him and his come inside. Keith sucked gently as he always did, eyes closed and face blissed. It would be at least a minute before his cock was small enough to pull out from behind Keith’s teeth.

To be honest though, this part was almost as good as the actual blowjob. Keith on his knees completely at his whim just warming his cock, it made him wish he could get hard again so soon. If only everyone who idolized this little spitfire could see him now.

Kept in line by a mouthful of cock.

When he softened Trak didn’t remove his cock. Keith was still kneeling, still and trance-like, and they were close enough to the meeting time that Trak wasn’t about to rush.

If Keith showed up late and a little fucked up and smelling of his come, well…

He'd have to set up something where he could bear witness to the fruits of his labors. Now that Keith was so deep in his sway, it would be fun to fuck with the Captain. He had no right to be so jealous, had signed away his right when he married the other man, so it would be exceptional fun to flaunt Keith around.

Looking down at Keith, still gently suckling him, Trak began to formulate a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be cat-and-mouse between Trak and Shiro, but eventual S/K.


	2. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternating viewpoints between these two from now on.

The meeting had been the last straw for Shiro.

It’s not like he doesn't get it. Shiro has all the compassion for the paladins, forced by circumstance and expectation to act well beyond their years. He knows Pidge still pranks her brother and Lance makes dirty, often inappropriate jokes, and Hunk is known to tickle instead of tackle in training.

But Keith’s behavior just can’t stand.

It wasn’t just juvenile, it was borderline obscene. It was inappropriate for any age, let alone the head of Voltron and a burgeoning representative for the Blades.

No one in that meeting had been spared the knowledge of what Keith had spent his morning doing. Red mouthed, hair a wreck, and checked-out mentally, it was impossible to miss.

Shiro had nearly crushed the tablet pen in his hand when he saw Keith. Almost got up and marched Keith right back out of the meeting. Wanted to hide him away from all those eyes scraping over him, observing just what post-orgasm looked like on Keith.

It made Shiro furious, no one else should be seeing that. It was private.

But it wasn’t the time, so he’s decidedly turned his eyes from the sight of Keith and went on with the meeting.

Now, days later, Shiro is still stewing over it. He knows all about the Blade Keith’s been seeing the last few weeks, knows they did a few missions together, did some dancing together at his wedding. And that's fine, normal. That's not what Shiro is mad about.

Keith just hasn’t been the same since he started seeing _(dating?)_ the Galra.

Honeymoon phase or not, the way that Keith’s been acting, especially in terms of work, concerns Shiro.  He shouldn’t have to remind Keith of meetings because he forgot, or excuse his constant tardys, or go over the finer points of peace talks covered in a meeting because Keith hadn’t been paying attention.

That’s not to say anything of how much Shiro hasn’t seen Keith outside of mandatory work meetings.

He knows they're busy, he knows he’s had less free time due to settling in with Curtis, but Shiro misses him. He misses his best friend and they work nearly side by side.

So now he’s cleared the rest of the afternoon, made sure Keith’s schedule is clear, and he’s going to track the black paladin down for some hover bike racing and heart-to-heart discussion about this Blade.

With this in mind, it's only natural that as soon as he turns down the hall to Keith's room, he spots said Galra.

The man is huge, practically filling up Keith’s door, head bowed in low conversation. He’s purple and furred like most of the other Galra, but mixed with a species Shiro’s never seen before. It gives him ears like Kolivan, but black dot markings across his cheeks and along his arms.

Shiro can’t remember how he felt about this Blade before it became a Keith-issue, so he tries to be aware that the bristling he feels in his chest isn’t because the man is _Actually Bad_. Probably he’s just too demanding on Keith’s time. A poor fit. Bad for Keith.

Still, seeing the Galra with his claws around Keith’s slender waist it's hard for Shiro not to think,  _predator!_

Shiro doesn’t falter as he walks toward them. He keeps his head high and his breath steady and he wracks his brain for the Galra's name.

No dice.

“Hey,” he greets when he’s just to the door.

Keith springs to attention as if he’s been electrified and tries to move away, but the claws tighten on his waist. The Galra, instead of letting Keith put an appropriate amount of space between them, draws him in.

Keith ends up in the hallway, huge Galra hulking behind him in what Shiro can’t help but think is a possessive gesture.

It makes Shiro more confident in what he came to talk to Keith about.

“Oh hey Shiro,” Keith’s blushing, uncomfortable in the position, or maybe by the implication, but unwilling to make more of a fuss.

Shiro smiles gently at Keith and refuses to look at the Galra. “I have some free time today and came to see if you wanted to go hover bike racing.” He widens his smile and then let’s dissolve. “Unless, uh, you’re busy?”

He doesn’t look at the Galra, but Keith’s eyes flicker up and back to Shiro.

“No uh, Trak was just leaving, hover bikes would be great!”

“Oh is it like that, babe?” The Galra pulls Keith bodily back into him, arms curling all the way around his waist. He says it gruff but playfully into Keith’s ear.

The act looks like a hug, but it makes Shiro’s whole body flush in anger. He accidentally meets the Galra’s eyes and they narrow and bore right into Shiro.

Keith himself laughs strangely and pushes at one of the big clawed hands. “Oh hush, you were just saying you’ve got to go finish those reports.”

The big man sighs, but his eyes are spitting anger Keith can't see. “Yeah but I was hoping I could convince you to keep me company.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but it’s amusement, and it makes the spike in Shiro’s gut larger. “Yeah and then you’ll never get the reports done. You go and do that, I haven’t seen Shiro in ages.”

Trak peels himself off Keith begrudgingly and Shiro tries not to see how the claws edge just under Keith’s shirt, flashing slivers of skin. “Fine, fine, whatever you want dear.”

Keith snorts and leans up to peck him on the cheek. “See you later.”

Trak gets in a last lewd grab of Keith’s ass and then bids Shiro the coldest of goodbyes and is gone.

“Come in, lemme just get changed,” Keith says, turning back to his bedroom.

Shiro takes the deepest of breaths and follows him in.

 ##

 They race out into the desert for hours, kicking up dust and taking in sunshine. It’s almost a relief, how Shiro feels as the wind blows by his face. For the first time in a while he feels like himself again. He feels like he’s where he’s supposed to be, doing what he’s supposed to.

Shiro wishes everything in his life could be as simple.

Then they’re winding down, hoverbikes banking near the crop of rocks where they usually rest. The sun is beginning to wane and it casts a stiff and cool shadow on the backside. Keith parks and Shiro follows suit. The conversation sits just in the back of Shiro’s throat, and he’s almost sad to have to cast it over an otherwise perfect afternoon.

“I forgot how much I missed this,” Keith says, plopping himself down in the dirt, back leaned against the cool stone. His hair is windblown but the braid still holds and before Shiro’s eyes adjust he’s just a black smear against the red rock.

“Me too,” Shiro says taking a seat beside him. The cold rock feels blissful against his sweaty back. “We’ve been busy.”

“Yeah.”

Shiro closes his eyes and breathes, listens to Keith beside him breathing. He wants to stretch it out, make it last.

But he’s never been a coward and now is no time to start.

“So,” he says, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

His tone must clue Keith into the fact that this is more than an everyday chat. He hears Keith turn his head toward him. “Yeah?”

Shiro takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, faces Keith. “Yeah,” he gives him a small smile, thinks about the thousand ways he’s tried and failed to word this in his head. “It’s uh, kinda about your boyfriend.”

Shiro watches Keith’s face go through several emotions and finally land on cautiously defensive. “About what?”

“I know a lot of it isn’t my place—“

“Correct,” Keith interjects and Shiro cringes.

“But I’m… concerned? You’ve been late or forgetful about meetings and… okay maybe it’s not the boyfriend, but is everything okay?”

It’s a credit to the strength of their friendship that Keith actually appears to be considering Shiro’s question.

“I guess maybe I’ve been a little distracted.”

Shiro lets out a breath, he can work with that.

“I’m not trying to say you have to be focused on the mission 24/7, we’re in peacetime and it’s good that you’re ah,” he clears his throat and forces the words out, “seeing someone, it’s just unlike you to be so distracted. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

This gets him one of those Keith smiles, soft and secret and he realizes it has been been entirely too long. He aches with the knowledge.

“I am okay..." he looks down at the dirt in thought. "But maybe I do need to practice balancing everything a little bit better. All or nothing is practically in the Galra DNA, I think sometimes I get swept up in the fervor.”

“I wouldn’t change your passion for anything Keith,” Shiro doesn’t want Keith to feel ashamed, especially about the parts of him that make him so amazing.

“Thanks Shiro,” Keith flicks dust off the knees of his jeans idly. “And it means a lot that you’re concerned, that you care. I’m glad you could talk to me about it.”

Shiro feels heat bloom in his belly. This, this is what has been missing the last few weeks. He bumps his shoulder against Keith’s. “That’s what friends are for.”

Keith bumps him back and then starts dragging him about his rusty hover bike flying. Shiro gives as good as he gets, glad that the hard part is behind him.

After they do enough friendly sniping, Keith tugs him up out of the dirt and back to the bikes for them to race home. As they part in front of Keith’s door, Shiro tentatively hopes this has put the weeks of weirdness to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's trying, but the spicy is with Trak in the next chapter. 
> 
> Next time: punishment for disobedience.


	3. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the filth train.  
> Additional tags this chapter: drug withdrawal, gaslighting

The Captain’s been in Keith’s ear. Trak knows it that evening when he comes by for his usual nightcap and Keith begs him off claiming exhaustion.

It was only a matter of time with how fast and loose Trak’s been playing it, but after having missed out on Keith under his desk during the long boring hours of paperwork, he was really looking forward to shoving his cock down Keith’s throat and then maybe getting a round in that tight ass.

But it’s not the time for force, he can tell just by the dead set of Keith’s face. And he’s smart enough to know patience will get him a far sweeter reward.

It’s time too that Keith learn just what it’s like when he goes without.

So he kisses Keith softly on the lips and bids him goodnight.

 When he jerks off later that evening with his hand wrapped around his heavy cock, it’s to thoughts of the future.

 ##

 Trak makes himself busy and unavailable. He sends messages to Keith throughout the day, maintains that he is not angry and nothing has changed. They’re just too busy and there’s no time for sex.

But they’ve never skipped more than a day since the wedding. Trak knows from experience the withdrawals start near the 36 varga mark.

So he times it carefully and stops Keith in the hallway the second morning, nearing varga 48.

Keith looks like shit as he collapses into Trak’s chest.

“Hey babe, just wanted to say good morning.”

Keith groans something into his shirt.

“You okay?”

“No,” Keith snuggles closer, rubbing his face against the short fur of Trak’s throat. “Sick.”

Trak pets his hair softly and then rubs the pads of his fingers where a scent gland on a full Galra would be. Keith preens into it, so Trak presses harder. “I’m sorry, maybe you should take the day off the rest?”

Keith whuffs a bitter sound into him. “Can’t, too busy. Make me feel better?”

He untucks his head to draw Trak in for a kiss. It starts nice enough, but gets better as Keith’s hormones begin to guide him. He may not know what the illness is or how to cure it, but his body does.

When those small, clever hands get to his waist, Trak stops them and pulls back from the kiss. “I’d love to but I really don’t have the time,” he makes a show of looking down the hall, “I’m late as it is.”

The whine that spills from Keith’s mouth is beautiful and goes straight to his cock. It’s the whine of a bitch who needs it bad, and it’s exactly what Trak has been wanting to hear. He rubs the scent gland again just to tease Keith.

“We could be quick?” Those violet eyes are a little hazy, either from the withdrawal or the arousal it’s hard to tell.

“I’ve really gotta go,” Trak pecks a kiss onto Keith’s lips. “But message me, let me know if some gharnut and bedrest are on the schedule for tonight.”

This seems to perk Keith a little bit, the promise of _later._ “Okay. Tonight.”

Trak smiles and pulls away from Keith, letting his claws drag across tender skin. Keith shivers. “Tonight.”

 ##

That evening, having tucked a protesting and jittery Keith into bed, Trak congratulates himself on a job well done. Currently Keith is belly full of dinner and wrapped in a blanket that smells of Trak. A blanket that Trak spent the last two days smearing his seed into just for the occasion.

It won’t be long now before Keith’s casual inquiries for sex turn into a driving, all consuming need.

It’s one of Trak’s favorite parts of having a plaything.

So he sits in Keith’s living room with a data pad, half reading and half listening for the little noises of suffering coming from the bedroom.

Keith lasts just short of two hours.

“Trak?” He shuffles out of the bedroom, wrapped in the blanket and nothing else. Trak can tell when he steps forward and there’s a flash of skin between the two ends.

And he’s a vision.

Keith looks like he’s been tossing and turning in bed, his hair practically snarled in knots, his cheeks pink and eyes glossy.

Trak wishes he had peeked into the bedroom. He might have caught Keith rubbing himself against the blanket, trying to suck at the fabric and not understand why. _Fuck_.

“Hey you should be in bed.” He puts the data pad down with his best faux disapproval.

“Can’t,” Keith gets to the couch and then stumbles his way into Trak’s lap. “Need you.”

Trak can feel the heat of him, and he’s powerless to stop how fast his cock hardens up. “You’re ill.”

Keith whines and starts to rock on his lap. “Please?”

Trak wants to give in, but he also wants to twist the knife just a little bit more. “Babe I’m tired.”

A clear headed Keith wouldn’t press, would see that as a rejection and go back to his room.

This Keith is on the edge of madness, is inching toward doing anything to get his fix.

He fumbles off Trak’s lap and gets on his knees. “You don’t have to do anything,” Keith pleas, hands letting go of the blanket to rub up and down Trak’s thighs. The blanket falls to his lap, unveiling all his sweaty, naked skin. “Just let me suck you off.”

It’s a challenge to keep the grin off his face with Keith on his knees.

“I don’t know.” He wishes he knew exactly what the Captain said that day to give Keith pause, wishes he had the words to use them against Keith right now.

“Please,” Keith is scrabbling at the fabric of his pants, leaning toward the shape of his cock.

Trak wonders how good the human sense of smell is. If he’s drawn to Trak’s cock on conscious or subconscious need.

“Okay, okay, take what you need.” Before he’s even finished his sentence, Keith has him out of his pants and halfway down his throat.

Keith sucks like a man possessed, like after a year in the desert he’s come upon cold water.

It’s an experience Trak won’t soon forget. In his mouth Trak’s cock fattens and leaks, and at the first hit of the drug Keith keens and gives a full body shutter.

When Trak looks down, he can see Keith has come all over his own lap. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. Just the smallest taste and Keith comes untouched.

Trak watches as Keith’s brain re-wires itself with the information that his come soothes that mysterious ache inside him, that it washes away the shakes, the illness, gives him a high so pleasant he blows his load immediately.

Keith begins to work harder.

The sound is obscene and the visual is better. Keith chokes and swallows on him, desperate to get another hit, desperate to make him come. At one point Trak grabs the dark hair and pulls him off just to watch Keith mouth pathetically and whine, eyes glued on him.

“Is this what you want?” Holding Keith in one hand and his cock in the other, he traces Keith’s lips with his cockhead. Keith’s tongue comes out to try and breach the difference, to lure him back into that tight heat.

Keith pulls against his hair to get closer, to get his lips just close enough to get the bead of precome about to drop.

“You’re so fucking hot like this.” He dips the head of his cock in just to take it away, to watch Keith pant and pull and whine. “You’d do anything I want, wouldn’t you?”

It’s obvious Keith isn’t functioning on language anymore, he can’t focus on anything but the cock in front of him. Trak wonders if it’s the right time, if Keith’s deep enough for the actual lesson.

“We work well together,” he says, dipping his cock in. “It’s important to me we make time for each other every day.” He thrusts in deep to a rumble of appreciation from Keith. “But when you turn me down,” he withdraws his cock and tugs on Keith’s hair to drive the point home. “When you turn me down I turn you down.”

Tears well in Keith's eyes, his mouth agape and needy.

“You need this,” he paints his cock across Keith’s cheek. “I need this,” he does the other. “We make time every day for it.”

Keith can’t make more than sounds, so Trak hopes that some part of his brain takes it in. Hopes the lesson lands and proves immovable.

Let the Captain try to wriggle his way in now.

Trak grins triumphant and lets go of Keith’s hair. Watches as his cock is sucked and deep throated, Keith mad with the need to milk him dry.

It doesn’t take long for the head of his cock to mushroom, to lock in place and spiral Keith into almost total bliss.

The drunk look on his face hits Trak hard and he starts to come.

It’s a lot even with his own sessions, body used to emptying itself into Keith all too often. Now with the build up and how he’s teased himself, Keith chokes early and struggles to swallow the amount. It’s so fucking filthy Trak gets an extra few pulses of pleasure out of his orgasm.

The cum drips down everywhere making an absolute mess of Keith. For an ill advised moment Trak considers the data pad beside him, how easy it would be to take a picture of Keith with his cock still knotted in his mouth, naked but for the cum dripping down his body. Would that be something the Captain would like to see?

It’s a fun idea to think through when he’s not quite so out of his own head.

Meanwhile it’s important to take in this moment: Keith licking and suckling gently, trying to get at the mess of come he can while his mouth is full.

Trak has no doubts when his knot does eventually go down, Keith will be licking up every drop as if it were the finest drink in the galaxy.

And if for some reason he doesn’t, well Trak will just make him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Shiro pines about Keith to his husband, and if you listen closely you can hear the crumbling foundation of a marriage.


	4. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding 'emotional infidelity' to the tag list because these two are toeing the line. Shiro is the Good Guy here, but some grey morality is forthcoming.

 Where previously the Blade had hardly been a shadow of a presence, post hover bikes he’s _everywhere_. Shiro will get hardly a second alone with Keith before the Blade turns up and lures him away with a look or the tip of a claw or worse— whispered words spoken just loud enough for Shiro to catch them. 

And Keith just goes. Just slips away from Shiro with a flimsy excuse and right in under the Galra’s arm. The smug look the other man wears every time is like a sliver pressing down deeper into Shiro’s skin every time.

“It’s a new relationship,” his husband says when Shiro brings it up for the fifth time, “that’s what people do, they completely forget their friends in the thrill of it, he’ll be back Shiro, you have to stop worrying.”

Curtis kisses him as if the issue is closed and then goes to the refrigerator to figure out what they’re having for late dinner.

“But what if he’s in a bad relationship?”

Curtis hums and then plucks out several ingredients. “Are there any signs of abuse?”

It’s some kind of pasta for the third night in a row, but how is Shiro to complain when he certain isn’t about to attempt to cook.

“No, but—“

“Honey,” Curtis says, stern as he starts chopping tomatoes, “I know you felt responsible for those kids during the war, but we aren’t living that now. Keith’s fine, and if he wasn’t fine you know what? He would probably tell you.” There’s a frown on his husbands face, or maybe it’s just the way he looks concentrating with a knife. “Keith’s just enjoying the honeymoon period, it never lasts.”

And _ouch_ that one’s aimed at him. During the wedding planning they had made a bargain: big wedding for Curtis, and a postponement on the honeymoon so Shiro could stay and work. He’d thought it was a fair compromise at the time, but almost three months in and Curtis never missed an opportunity to bemoan the loss of their honeymoon.

“Curtis,” Shiro sighs and rounds the kitchen island. He slides up behind his husband and wraps his arms around him.

“No I know, we agreed. It’s just sometimes it feels like we even skipped the newlywed bit and went right to the workaholic/old married couple.” He pauses his chopping and leans back into Shiro’s warmth.

It’s a fair criticism. Shiro has been busy, running sun up to sundown just to meet the demand, and by the time he gets back to their apartment Curtis makes pasta and they eat it at midnight standing against the kitchen counters. When they get into bed Shiro hits the pillow like a stone, without a care for romance.

He hasn’t done more than kiss his husband goodbye for more than a week.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles it into the back of Curtis’ neck.

Curtis reaches a hand back to scratch gently at the buzzed side of his head. “It’s fine, I get it. It’s just,” he sighs.

“Let me finish dinner, why don’t you curl up on the couch and I’ll bring the food?” It’s the only olive branch that Shiro has right now that’s not sex, and he is definitely not in the mood for that.

“That sounds nice,” Curtis relents. When he slips out of Shiro’s arms and goes to the couch it’s pure relief. Shiro does his best with pasta and it comes out _okay._

_##_

Despite no one else sharing Shiro’s Keith-related concerned, Shiro continues to monitor the situation like hawk. It’s hard and it takes more than a little juggling with his packed schedule, but once he pays Hunk for a pan of brownies to bribe Pidge, his day schedule suddenly aligns itself much more closely to Keith’s.

Which is how he knows that Galra is definitely going out of his way to interrupt.

Fortunately, Shiro’s never met a game he couldn’t beat, a competition he couldn’t win, or a human or being he couldn’t charm. If what it takes to get Keith out of that questionable Galra's claws is a little sweetening of the pot, then Shiro can do that.

Not that Keith is generally the kind of person to be bribed or bought, but everyone has a price even if they think they don’t. You just have to find what motivates them.

And Shiro knows no one as intimately as he knows Keith, so he figures it gives him the edge over that Blade.

It starts, literally, with sweets.

“Fuck,” Keith swears after the first bite of brownie. “How’d you get these! Hunk said he was making them strictly for special occasions.”

Hunk indeed intended to hold tight to his morals, but a very expensive and hard to obtain spice had swayed him in Shiro’s favor.

Seeing Keith cradle the brownie in hand, eyes closed in total bliss, Shiro would have willingly paid double. Triple even.

“Magic,” Shiro says with a chuckle. “And there’s more where that came from.” Two more in fact in his quarters hidden away so Curtis won’t accidentally find and eat them and ruin Shiro’s plan.

“What! Where?” Keith’s brownie is gone already and he’s licking his fingers, eyeing Shiro as if they’re hiding on his person. Shiro made that mistake once with some alien candy that Keith liked and he’d nearly been frisked out of his shirt. 

“So here’s the deal,” Shiro grins slyly, “You know how every few months I gotta clean the arm,” he gestures to the mechanical one. Keith nods. “Well it takes forever doing it one-handed and I’ve already asked the other paladins before. So could you help me clean it like tonight or tomorrow? Hunk's brownies and my eternal gratitude in reward.”

Keith smiles and shoves at his human arm. “Shiro you don’t have to bribe me, you know I’d help you with anything.”

Shiro shrugs, looks away. “You’ve just been busy doing… other things. I felt too guilty asking if I didn’t have something to offer.”

“You’re so stupid,” Keith says, “I’m never too busy for you. How’s tonight?”

Tonight is perfect because they’re both done early for once and Curtis is overseeing the evening flight simulators. “Perfect, I’m done at 4.”

“Okay, I’m off at 4:30, should I bring dinner?” Keith fiddles with the end of his braid. Shiro never sees his hair loose anymore because it’s not practical at its current length, but Shiro wonders what it looks like when he lets it out. Pretty probably, crimped in gentle waves from the braid.

“I’ll order in. Pizza okay?”

It’s traditional and the light in Keith’s eyes says he knows so too. “Absolutely.”

And then suddenly their time is up. The Galra slides into their space, a hand curling around Keith’s side and subtly pulling him closer.

“Hey babe,” the Galra growls low and a little inappropriate for the lunchroom Shiro thinks.

“Hey,” Keith turns his head for the kiss, already stacking his trash onto his tray to leave. “4:30 then?” This he directs at Shiro.

Shiro gives him his best smile and tries not to let the doubt swamp him. He can see the Blade putting it together, the slight pinch of his mouth in disapproval. “Yeah, see you then.”

Shiro can feel the tension as the Blade guides Keith up out of his seat and out of the lunchroom. He wants to believe Keith will show, that their friendship matters enough that Keith won’t be swayed by the Galra’s disapproval.

Still it haunts him like a low level anxiety the rest of the day.

 

##

 

There’s no messages from Keith by the time Shiro finishes for the day so he goes to his apartment, showers and changes, and puts in their usual order for pizza. It’s only as he’s getting out the kit for cleaning his arm that there’s a knock on his door.

It’s Keith.

“Hey—“

“Hey,” Keith growls, stalking past him into the apartment.

Shiro shuts the door and turns to watch Keith pace his living room. He’s ecstatic that Keith’s here, but that’s not the correct emotion for how clearly agitated his friend is.

“What’s up?”

Keith huffs, stopping in the middle of the room. “Nothing, it’s just—“ he tugs at his hair in irritation. It’s looser than it was at lunch, sort of messy like maybe someone’s had their hands plucking at it.

Actually, now that Shiro’s really looking he sees there’s a hickey just peeking out from Keith’s collar. His mouth is redder than it should be.

Shirk swallows around that conclusion and tries not to let that bitterness show. Keith came, and that’s what matters.

“It’s dumb,” Keith says walking over to the couch and throwing himself down on it. “Because I don’t really believe in like… complaining about your partner to other people. It doesn’t seem right. But then what are you supposed to do when you fight with them?”

At this he looks to Shiro for the first time, as if genuinely asking. Shiro lets a few seconds go by, and when he gets the feeling Keith actually wants an answer he goes to him on the couch.

“Keith it’s not that black and white. Look, with any relationship sometimes that person will piss you off. It’s okay to vent about it, I think it’s probably helpful to sort out your feelings, allow you to go back to that person more clear headed and say when you actually mean.”

Keith curves over his knees as if thinking this through. “You don’t think that’s like talking behind someone’s back?”

Shiro can feel how serious this is to Keith. The black paladin has always had a strict moral code, it’s what makes him an excellent leader.

But Shiro knows better than most how some professional qualities don’t translate as well in social relationships. So he thinks his answer through carefully.

“I don’t think it’s talking about someone behind their back if you’re eventually going to tell them how you feel. Right? Because then you’re sorting your thoughts, getting feedback from people who know you, and are going to tell that person why you were upset. That seems really mature to me.”

There’s a long silence after that and Shiro lets it happen. He can feel Keith thinking about his words.

“Okay,” it comes out on a huge rush of breath and Keith’s shoulders finally fall from his ears. “I think you’re right. As long as I talk to the person.”

Shiro hums encouragingly and then leaves more room for Keith to fill it.

“Trak was just kinda being an ass about me coming here.” Keith scratches at his neck and looks at the carpet. “He’s always been a little… possessive, and it was fine, I get it. But it’s not like you and me hang out all the time. Hell, I see Trak almost every night so I just figured hanging out with you wouldn’t be an issue? And then it was and it made me feel like I was doing something wrong, _but I’m not,_ and I don’t know. I’m not good with words to begin with, and I got pissed off and then really couldn’t figure out how to talk to him about it.”

Keith stops then, fingers plucking at a thread of his jeans. Shiro orders his words carefully. “That does sound hard. What do you think you need to do?”

“Maybe establish that I’m going to see you or the other paladins sometimes. That I can’t be available every single day.”

“I think that sounds reasonable.”

Keith snorts, “it sounds a lot easier saying it now, it felt impossible in the moment.”

“Emotions do that.” Shiro puts his hand down on Keith’s. It draws Keith’s eyes up to his face for the first time.

“Yeah. Ugh.” He makes a face. “So anyway, I think that’s that. How about we do something more fun now and take apart that arm?”

Shiro chuckles and takes back his hand to grab the box with the tools. “You have a weird definition of fun Keith.”

A smile curls the edges of Keith’s lips. “But first,” And now the light is back in Keith’s eyes too, like the storm he came in with has completely blown away thanks to Shiro. It makes his stomach flutter happily. “Where are those promised brownies, hm?”

“Pizza first Keith.”

Keith springs up, nose to the air as if he could sniff them out. “You’re not my mom, give up the goods Takashi!”

“I’m looking out for Krolia’s interests while she’s on mission.” Shiro replies.

Keith laughs, turning to head to the kitchen. “Fine, but the _second_ the pizza is done I want my just reward.”

Shiro catches the soda tossed to him as Keith gets one for himself. “Of course,” Shiro says and pops the tab of the can. “Now get over here and help me start disassembly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: another punishment for our poor little Keef.


	5. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: anal sex, ass-to-mouth, objectification, belly bulge.

 Trak ignores the whining as he pushes the head of his cock into Keith’s hole. It’s a tight fit every time with how small Keith is, but Trak wouldn’t change it for anything. It’s so fucking hot watching that hole strain to take his girth. How the rim flutters as Keith cries into the sheets.

He especially loves the froth of come and lube when he starts fucking into the paladin.

For now though he takes it slow because this is a punishment for Keith. It’s almost 36 varga after the dinner date with the captain and Keith is starting to feel the effects of not getting his dosage.

He should have known better than to start an argument with Trak. Should have known better than to skip their evening routine for _that human._

But it’s fine, if it’s a lesson Keith needs to learn over and over again, then it’s one Trak will teach him.  It certainly is not a hardship.

Now he’s got Keith face down on a blanket that smells of his come, thrusting his cock slow but deep into his ass. It’s a hole, but not the right one as Keith is beginning to realize. It’s sex without that special high.

Keith’s fingers claw into the blanket.

“That’s it,” Trak coaches, “just stay there and take it, this is what you’re getting.” He pulls out and then plays with the fat head of his cock popping in and out of that ring of muscle. Humans are more sensitive here than Galra are, and it had been a delightful discovery the first time trying it.

It’s good also to know how much pleasure Keith isn’t getting from this. How he’s mouthing at the fabric of the blanket subconsciously trying to get what he needs.

Trak is going to take his time fucking into his sweet ass, and then when he’s finished tuck them both into bed. It’s he lucky, and the way Keith is beginning to shutter with the beginnings of withdrawal says he likely will be, later he will be woken up by Keith sucking him down to get his fill.

He should really send the captain some sort of thank you note, the back and forth between them is really lending itself to some wonderful outcomes.

He pushes his cock in again and closes his eyes to feel the ripple of Keith’s body around him. It’s like having his own fucktoy, the way that Keith just lies there whining for something he has no name for yet.

It takes ages because they have the time. Because after missing his morning blowjob he really wants to edge himself to orgasm. Maybe get himself off so carefully he just stays inside Keith.

At least until Keith gets too out of his head and pulls off just so he can get that cock down his throat.

And isn’t _that_ a thought. He throbs just imagining it. His cock is starting to plump.

Below him Keith sucks at the cloth like a kit, and it’s a struggle watching him to keep the slow pace. _Fuck_.

It’s worth it, so worth it. He should stay awake just to see what Keith does. Can’t stop thinking of how filthy it would be if Keith can’t help himself. Just a shameless slut who needs to swallows down Trak’s cock.

He’s too swollen now to pull out, or rather he doesn’t want to try right now. Keith’s blazing hot around him, shivering and writhing around him perfectly. 

Trak readjusts their position, rolling them both onto their sides and sliding just that little bit deeper into Keith. He wants to be able to just drift off after he comes, Keith locked in his arms so he can’t get at the come just yet.

It’s also so he can take one of his free hands and offer some fingers to Keith’s mouth. They’re wet with lube but Keith’s brain doesn’t know that. They just smell of his musk and are wet, so his subconscious tells him to suck.

Keith mouths his fingers with the same dedication he does a cock. Sucks hard to try and draw out sustenance he won’t be getting just yet.

Trak thrusts into him with the ghost memory spurning him closer to the end. Keith’s hot little body is just perfect for him, responds in every way that Trak could ever want.

If only there was a way to let the captain see first hand. Let him walk in and see Keith on his knees choking on Trak's cock.

It’s impossible to miss the smell of his attraction to Keith, even if he’s playing the friend card. Even if he’s already married.

Not that Trak really blames him. The feeling of sliding deep into Keith is a revelation. Watching his throat bulge trying to swallow him down is practically fine art. And the captain is merely a man, weak when it comes to this beauty.

He keeps coming back to this idea of showing the captain just how outclassed he is. Just how under his control Keith is. It's hot in all the right ways.

It’s to this thought that he finally begins to come. The pulses and whines from Keith milk him for a long orgasm, until he can practically feel it sloshing in around his cock.

Trak pulls his fingers out of Keith’s mouth but shushes the man when the whines continue. When he slides his hand down that slender body he can feel the bulge where his come is stuffed inside Keith.

“It’s time for bed,” Trak chides. Keith presses back into him meaningfully.

Trak reaches down further and touches Keith’s cock. It’s hard, but not as hard as it is when Keith is blowing him.  He considers getting the paladin off, but then decides it might be more beneficial for his every orgasm to coincide with giving a blowjob. “Sleep.”

He keeps Keith spooned tight to him, his cock buried in him even after it starts to deflate.

There’s a bit of protesting, but Keith’s already tired and weak from oncoming withdrawal.

Trak settles into a light rest.

  ##

 Keith must sleep for a little, because it’s not  until hours later that Trak rouses from movement. It’s slow and careful, so Trak pretends to sleep on.

Keith pries his claws off and then moves away from Trak, letting his cock slip out of his hole.

It’s an obscene noise with how full Keith is, and he hears Keith gasp at it.

He has to look, he just has to.

It’s hard to see even with his Galra eyes, so he’s sure Keith doesn’t notice him watching. The paladin has his fingers at his hole where he’s leaking on the sheets. A moment later the hand comes to his face and he sniffs.

Then the fingers are popping into his mouth, sucked dry.

Trak can practically see Keith’s blurry brain put it together. Can see when he turns back toward Trak with a brighter idea.

_Continue sucking on his fingers, or get it straight from the source._

Hardly a choice.

Keith shuffles down the bed, less careful now with a goal in mind. Trak stays lying on his side and allows Keith to manhandle a space down between his legs.

There was no preventing himself getting hard, but Keith doesn’t seem to find that odd. Doesn’t even glance up. He doesn’t care about anything but getting his mouth filled.

Trak sighs when his cock is enveloped in that heat.

Keith is a mess, absolutely wrecked as he works Trak over. He sucks desperately like he’ll die if he doesn’t get it. Already Trak knows he’s not going to last.

With an easy strength he flips them, trapping Keith on his back and sliding his cock deep into the paladin's throat.

There’s a choking sound, but when Keith’s hands come up to his hips it’s to hold, to urge him to fuck into Keith’s mouth.

 _With pleasure_.

Trak starts a fast and deep rhythm, his cock already swelling with impending orgasm.

He backs his hips up a little to avoid actually suffocating Keith with the fat head, but doesn’t go far.

Already his precome is leaking down Keith’s throat and he can feel the way Keith squirms with the pleasure.

“That’s it,” Trak grunts. “Suck me you little slut. You’re made for it.”

Keith makes a noise of assent.

“Gonna come, gonna fill you up.”

Keith whines and sucks and lets his throat be fucked.

When he starts to come, Keith’s nails dig into his hips and he swallows over and over around the cock in his throat. It feels amazing to be so deep, to have a mouth around him so eager.

“Fuck. One of these days I’ll have to keep you on your knees the whole day.” He looks down between them at Keith, eyes drugged and mouth red. There’s come oozing out of the corners of his mouth. He’s a vision.

Trak turns back over slowly to lie on his back, forcing Keith to follow as his mouth is still knotted. When they resettle Keith lays with his cheek on Trak’s thigh and closes his eyes. Track traces the thickness of his cock against Keith’s lips. “I hope we don’t have to keep going over the same lesson.”

Keith doesn’t speak, doesn’t seem capable at the moment anyway.

“If you take care of me every day we won’t have this problem, you won’t have to suffer.”

His claws trail up into Keith’s hair, petting it softly. A purr rises up from Keith’s chest.

“That’s right little one, this is where you belong.”

When his knot releases Keith doesn’t pull away, only readjusts his position so he can keep the tip in his mouth.

Trak cards his claw tips through Keith’s hair and relaxes into the bed with the warm wet heat surrounding him.

As he closes his eyes the fantasies come back. How many other filthy things he can get Keith to do?

Before long at all Trak hardens up again. He begins to thrust gently into Keith’s mouth. Keith’s either asleep or too high to be bothered, but that doesn't matter. Trak puts a hand on his head and moves him, using his mouth like a cocksleeve. There’s a lot of fantasies he'd love to bring to life, and he goes through each in lurid detail. In his head each idea is hotter than the one before.

He makes it last, indulging himself like he hasn’t in ages. Keith desperate to get him off is good, but he forgets sometimes how sweet this can be too. Being able indulge his darkest fantasies as he moves the wet heat on him.

When he comes for the third time that night it’s sloppy, spilling from Keith’s lax mouth. The boy wakes a little to swallow what he can, but mostly it drips down his face and then is smeared all over when Trak drops his head back onto his lap.

Clean up later will be a bitch, but that’s a problem for future him. Maybe he’ll have a good morning and wake to an obedient kit lapping him clean.

Trak stretches in the bed with a sigh, satisfied by the thought. He falls asleep soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The boys start sneaking around, you know, platonically. Plus a verbal catfight.


	6. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags

 “I can’t,” Keith says the next time Shiro tries to hang out.

“Oh,” it had only been an invite for burgers and some fresh air outside the complex, but the rejection still stings.

Keith looks guilty about having to turn him down, which is some consolation but not much.

It’s glaringly obvious when Keith doesn’t supply a reason that it’s about Trak.

“Another time then,” Shiro says, reaching to pull out his data pad so he can make up an excuse to leave. “I better get back to—“

“How about later?” Keith blurts.

“Later?” That had been his original proposition, now Shiro’s confused.

“Like late. I’ll be done by like.. eleven. We couldn’t do dinner but we could just hang out?”

That is late, that’s after he should be in bed with Curtis. But then again if Keith does have earlier plans with Trak, it’s making sure those plans don’t go on all night.

“Okay,” he says.

Keith looks relieved. “Meet by Exit D5 around eleven?”

It’s an elegant solution since they can’t hang out at either of their places. At least Shiro definitely can’t since as it is he’ll have to sneak out after Curtis goes to bed. Is Keith sneaking out too?

“Sounds good.”

Keith smiles and they both part with the promise of meeting up later.

Anything to make sure Keith is doing okay. That Galra wants nothing more than to keep Keith all to himself, and Shiro is not about to let that happen. 

 

##

 

It’s easy to get Curtis to bed early with some kisses and a quick handjob. His husband always drops off immediately after sex, so it’s a two birds one stone solution. Shiro gets out of bed when Curtis starts snoring. He sneaks to the living room and does not let any of the dangerous thoughts crowd him.

It’s fine, he’s fine. He’s just doing what needs to be done. As many times as it takes, right?

Shiro dresses in the living room to minimize sound and then leaves.

His heart is hammering on the walk to the exit. What if Keith doesn’t show? What if Curtis wakes up and he’s not there? What if someone sees them and draws the inappropriate conclusion?

Shiro isn’t usually prone to spiraling, but the late hour is doing a number on him. He tells himself to focus.

The hallways are low lit and quiet, and it takes him no time to make it to the exit. In fact he’s early. He pulls out his data pad and checks for messages and then flicks through some news on the internet to waste time.

Keith shows up ten minutes after eleven, just as Shiro is really starting to panic.

“Hey! Sorry!” Keith whispers even though there’s no rooms around to be heard. He’s wearing casual clothes like Shiro and instead of the braid his hair is up in a messy bun. It’s a cute look.

“No worries, I’m just happy to see you.” Shiro doesn’t mean to be that earnest, it just slips out.

Keith’s smile kinda makes him glad it did.

They go out the exit and walk the Garrison grounds chatting, staying out of security zones. Just lit by the moon it’s dark but rather cozy. Cooler than he expected, and he’s glad he brought one of his jackets.

Then he looks at Keith, bare armed and stiff.

“You cold?” He interjects when their conversation meets a natural stopping point.

“A little, I forgot to think about the desert nights.”

Before Shiro even thinks it through, he’s pulling off his jacket and draping it over Keith’s slender frame.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold now?”

Shiro shrugs, watching Keith put his arms through the jacket. It’s slightly too big for him but Shiro likes how it looks. “I’ll live.”

Keith gives him a friendly bump and then stays close, their arms brushing as they walk. “Never miss an opportunity to be chivalrous.”

Shiro laughs but the way Keith’s tugged the jacket tight around him warms Shiro in a way articles of clothing never could.

“The words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.” Shiro says.

They make loops a while longer talking about their days and the projects coming up and anything that pops into their heads. Anything except Shiro’s husband and Keith’s boyfriend. It doesn’t escape Shiro’s notice.

But it’s too nice to see Keith, to hang out with him like old times that he doesn’t want to bring it up. Doesn’t need the complicated and unwelcome presence of others in their space.

When it’s far, far too late they make their way back to the exit. There they hug and part ways and it’s only when Shiro is stripping in his living room to change back into his pajamas that he realizes Keith never returned his jacket.

 

##

 

It accidentally-on-purpose becomes a habit. Not every night, but a few times a week they make plans for a midnight stroll after both their partners have turned in for the night. Neither of them says it directly, but it haunts their walks like a specter.

Shiro maintains they’re not doing anything wrong. If Curtis asked Shiro would tell him, would explain that it’s the only time Keith can get away, and after their previous conversation Shiro is more dedicated than ever to being an available outlet should Keith need to talk.

Not that he’s mentioned the Galra since. Not a peep.

Sometimes on their walks Shiro will catch an expression like Keith wants to say something, and he’ll let the silence build, but three weeks in and he hasn’t.

They have a walk scheduled for tonight, so Shiro’s waiting by their exit for him now.

Twice now Keith’s forgotten a jacket when they’ve gone out, and Shiro low-key hopes there will be the third time. He knows in reality it doesn’t mean anything, but seeing Keith in one of his jackets calms Shiro. It makes his animal brain believe he really can protect Keith, that it really is just as simple as lending a garment.

He’s daydreaming on this when he hears footsteps. They’re patently not Keith’s because they come far more spaced and heavier.

Shiro knows before he turns that it’s the Galra.

“I regret to inform you,” the Galra says as he nears, “Keith can’t come out and play today.”

There’s a menacing smile that immediately raises Shiro’s hackles. “What’ve you done to him?”

The Blade makes a clucking noise and continues his slow approach. “Now, now, there’s no need for such aggression.” He’s circling Shiro slowly, forcing him to either leave his back unprotected or turn and give the Galra the satisfaction of knowing he’s unsettled him. Shiro keeps his feet planted firm.

“Where’s Keith?” He repeats.

“Asleep in my bed, you know how he gets when he’s been well-fucked.” Shiro grits his teeth. “Or maybe you don’t.” The Blade says, voice dripping condescension.

“Don’t talk about Keith like that.”

The Galra finally rounds him and stops back in front. “Oh? Well you asked. I only came to do you a favor by telling you Keith would not be coming out tonight.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful?” Shiro glares. He wishes he could punch the smug look right off that ugly face.

“It would be a better look than whatever your face is currently doing.” The Galra shrugs.

Shiro frowns. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”

“And what am I doing?” The mans body language is open and fake friendly as if to say _who me?_

“You’re trying to isolate Keith.”

The Blade hums thoughtfully. “Do you really think Keith can be made to do anything he doesn’t want to do? Perhaps you should be considering the fact that he prefers to delegate you to second place, to these pathetic late night visits.”

“That’s not true.”

The Galra grins wide and toothy. “Isn’t it? Well I better be getting back, as riveting as this chat is, I wouldn’t want Keith to wake up cold and lonely in our bed.”

The anger is like a full body redness that washes over Shiro. “Keith is too good for the likes of you,” Shiro hisses.

This makes the Blade laugh. “That may be true,” he tosses over his shoulder as he walks away, “but you should see how he loves to lower himself.”

The breath chokes in Shiro’s chest, and his face burns as if the other man had slapped him. Before he can even consider a returning shot the Galra is down the hall and gone.

Shiro turns heel and stalks off, the rage inside him demanding outlet.

He gets halfway back to his apartment before his higher brain functions kick back on and he realizes it’s a bad idea. Curtis doesn’t even know he’s gone out, and with the adrenaline in his bloodstream it’s not like Shiro is going right to bed like he usually does after their walks.

So he changes course for the only place he can be this fueled up: the gym.

 

##

 

Shiro goes round after round with the training robots, increasing the difficulty until he’s gritting his teeth and sweating buckets. If he’s imagining a certain Galra’s features as he slams his fist into the faceplate, well that’s nobody’s business but his.

It takes a while for the anger to drain, but eventually he shuts down the training program and drags himself to the showers. He washes his hair, scrubs at his skin, and tries to ignore his half hard cock. It’s just the adrenaline and the fighting, a pretty standard reaction when he’s keyed up. It doesn’t mean anything.

But then he’s got his eyes closed under the hot spray and he can hear the Galra’s words, _you should see how he loves to lower himself._

Does Keith—?

Logically Shiro knew they were having sex, but it’s different to have the image thrown right in his face. It’s inappropriate. Shiro needs to scrub the words from his brain and yet he can’t. He hates the idea of Keith with that Galra, hates that man more now than ever. He feels for the first time justified in his feelings. He has real evidence. The Galra is a total asshole, saying shit like that about Keith.

What Keith does in the bedroom should be private, should be between him and his partner.

Though he’s sure most of what the Galra said was probably bullshit. It’s unlike Keith to blow off anyone without at least telling them. He will have to follow up with Keith in the morning.

Still, the doubts creep in. He scrubs his hands through his hair.

Is Keith in his bed right now? Is that Galra crawling over him, running those massive claws over his slender body to rouse him—

And how does that even work? That Galra is _massive_ and Keith is—

Shiro breathes through his nose. Between his legs his cock is heavy. It’s the adrenaline, the roller coaster of emotions he’s gone through this evening. He’s not— it isn’t—

He palms himself once, shivering at how good it feels.

But it’s not the time. Half his brain is screaming alarm bells at him, and Shiro’s always found a lot of value in listening to his gut.

He turns the water cold and keeps himself planted in front of it. The shock clears his head, and as he watches the water swirl down the drain he hopes it takes all the Galra’s words with it.

 

##

 

In the morning Keith finds him before Shiro’s even thought about when best to pull him aside.

“I’m so sorry!” Keith greets, a coffee and breakfast bag in hand. He offers both to Shiro just as Shiro is headed to his office. “I went to take a nap and my alarm never went off and I’m so sorry!”

Shiro takes the coffee and gulps it down to wake his brain. He hasn’t fully integrated all of last night into the light of day. “Okay,” then his brain starts to turn on. “I mean it’s fine, it happens,” though he is suspect as to exactly why Keith’s alarm didn’t go off. “Your boyfriend told me you weren’t coming.”

They’ve turned to walk together to Shiro’s office, and this causes Keith to falter in his gait. “Wait, what?”

It’s not that surprising that Trak failed to mention it. Shiro gives Keith a brief recounting, pairing down Trak’s lewder remarks so Keith doesn’t feel embarrassed.

Still the mans cheeks are ruddy when they get to the office and Shiro lets them in.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t cool, I’ll talk to him about it.”

“It’s fine.” Shiro says, putting the bag of breakfast down and booting his computer.

“No it’s not!” Keith crosses his arms, angry. “We talked it out last time and came to an agreement. And he could have just as easily woken me up but he didn’t—“ Keith’s expression darkens. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

Shiro pointedly stares at his computer, he can’t be the one to start blaming Keith’s boyfriend without evidence. He can only tell Keith what he’s seen first hand.

“Do you think…?” Keith says this as if thinking aloud to himself.

“Keith,” Shiro takes a deep breath and swallows back a lot of choice words. He needs to be fair here. “I can’t tell you what did or didn’t happen. I just think your boyfriend has a problem with us hanging out and I wish he didn’t.”

Keith looks ready to punch something. Shiro remembers his last night in the gym and almost smiles at the similarity.

“Fuck,” Keith tugs at this braid in frustration. “And I thought everything was going so well.”

There’s nothing unbiased Shiro can say to that, so he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Okay,” Keith says a moment later. “Okay, well I’ll handle it.” And there’s his Keith, taking his anger in stride and formulating a plan of action. “I’m sorry for what he said though, and I’m sorry I stood you up.”

Shiro steps back around his desk gesturing to the breakfast bag. “No worries, all's forgiven.”

Even so he takes the opportunity to step forward and wrap his arms around Keith. In response Keith is quick to return it, squeezing him tight.

It relieves something in Shiro to feel Keith’s slender body pressed against his. It feels like safety, like despite how awful his evening went everything is going to be okay.

And if Shiro holds him a few seconds too long and breathes in the lilac shampoo Keith is fond of, well that's no one else's business. The things between them are just between them, and it’s better when the rest of the galaxy respects that.

When Keith goes, Shiro opens the bag and finds a Boston crème donut, his favorite. He carries that smile on his face the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore the comments you guys leave. I made Trak an OC so you can hate him guiltlessly. He'll get his eventually, don't worry!
> 
> Next time: Trak shows Shiro something he can't unsee.


	7. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as Trak's motivations, he's just your everyday villain, there's no big plot here. He’s consumed by his own ego and likes to control people, use them for sex. With Keith he’s also finding it fun to fuck with Shiro, to beat Shiro in this “game” of who "owns" Keith.
> 
> Tags this chapter: noncon voyeurism, public sex

Trak can smell the fight before he even lays eyes on Keith. No doubt the captain went on blabbing about their little chat and Keith’s come to read him his rights.

The thing is, Trak’s not really a fighter. At least not this kind. He loves his Blade work, but he doesn’t have a taste for the domestic kind of violence and screaming, all it does it annoy and make his head hurt.

And why fight when it doesn’t really matter anyway? In another twelve or so vargas Keith will be back on bended knee begging for him. He will have forgotten all about his anger and Shiro until he gets what he needs. It's been the same with every partner previous, and Trak sees no point in deviating from the easiest course of action. It'll get him what he wants quickest.

So when Keith storms in his apartment that evening, fists clenched and blazing, Trak just folds.

“I’m sorry,” he says just as Keith opens his mouth. It’s almost funny the way it cuts Keith’s cords. “You look mad, and it’s probably about what I said to Captain Shirogane, and you’re completely justified. I let my jealousy get the best of me. It was immature and you’re worth more than that.” He lowers his eyes for effect.

“Ooh,” Keith says after a long pause. Looks confused by this turn of events. “Yeah, you shouldn’t have done that.”

Trak closes the distance between them, figures if he can just get his arms around Keith then he will have diffused the bomb. “I’m sorry babe, what can I do to make it up to you?”

He tugs gently on Keith’s crossed arms and they unfold, allowing Keith to be pulled into his chest.

But Keith is still stiff against him. “Did you turn off the alarm on my data pad?”

It had been a dicey decision, not fully considered in the moment. Trak considers lying, but decides to try the truth. “Yeah.”

It’s the right answer, he can feel it in the way Keith’s body releases just slightly. “You can’t do that.”

Trak sighs, this time he tries a lie. “You’ve just looked so tired recently, I thought you could use the extra sleep.”

Keith pulls out of the hug and glares up at him. “Try again.”

It shouldn't be surprising how quickly Keith is deescalated by the truth, even an ugly one, and how fast he is to spot a lie. That could work in Trak's advantage in future conflicts. “I wanted you to stay with me.”

Keith lays his head back on Trak’s chest, unconsciously tilted toward the scent gland. It’s amazing how Keith falls right into it, how even just being nearer can sway him. Certainly Trak’s flimsy apology isn’t doing all the work.

“Next time just ask,” Keith says.

“I already ask for too much,” It's a good line, both truthful and effective. He runs claw tips up and down Keith’s back. They catch at the edges of his clothing and Trak is just beginning to slide them under the waistband of Keith’s pants when Keith pulls away.

“I’m not really in the mood tonight,” he says by way of explanation. It’s clear Trak hasn’t yet been completely forgiven, but that’s fine. He expects it when next Keith says he’s going to go because tonight he wants some space.

At the door to Trak’s rooms Keith kisses him and promises to see him tomorrow. Trak watches his ass as it walks away, wondering how best to collect for this transgression when Keith comes crawling.

 

##

 

In the end he decides it should be the captain who pays.

He still fucks Keith that whole next week, filling both his holes with seed and making him cry and whimper into the bedsheets. It’s good enough to tide him over for the main course that he’s planned over the weekend.

And it’s enough time to let the two paladins get back into their midnight rendezvous. He wants them both unsuspecting, easily manipulated.

It’s a delicate balance Trak wants to strike, between coincident and intentional. To Keith it needs to seem an accident, but he wants the captain to know that this was set up just for him. That Trak hasn't lost an inch of Keith, and that every midnight walk happens only because of Trak's generosity.

So on Friday Trak claims that he’s busy, and instead makes a date with Keith for Saturday night. Keith takes this in stride easily, and Trak has no doubt it’s because he suddenly has some free time to see the captain.

Trak checks the exit logs Saturday morning to confirm his suspicion: both their hover bikes were checked out Friday and didn’t come back until well after midnight. If Keith weren’t so honorable, it would bother him. He would start to assume there was more than friendship going on. As it stands, though, both paladins are well known for their moral compass. 

So it's really just amusing to let it happen. To use it as a tool to remind the captain that those plush lips, that tight little ass, it all belongs to Trak.

By Saturday evening Keith is at the thirty varga mark. Trak doesn’t want him quite out of his head for this, but he does require Keith malleable.

First he takes Keith to dinner as if it’s a proper date. They talk through dinner and eat some earth food that Trak doesn’t care to remember the name of because it's not what he's actually hungry for. He leads the conversation in the direction of Keith’s bike.

It’s easy after that to just listen, to fake interest in seeing Keith ride sometime.

When they leave the restaurant Keith asks if he wants to see the bike now, and maybe they could find something of size for Trak. Trak's a good pilot, so Keith muses that it would be an easy transition. Trak agrees.

Trak already knows their bikes are kept together on a small hanger not frequented by most. The clearance to get anywhere near the paladins stuff isn’t just given to anyone, so it’s a private space they're not likely to be interrupted in. At least not intentionally.

In the hanger Keith gives him the talking points of the bike, smile wide and glowing. He’s so beautiful Trak can’t help himself, he leans down and kisses Keith mid-word.

“Sorry,” he says when he pulls back, “you’re just so cute talking about what you love.”

 Keith blushes and stumbles over the last of his sentence, but Trak can see how charmed he is. How already he’s leaning closer, either the flattery or hormones working in Trak’s favor.

There’s just one step left.

“This one’s nice too,” Trak says stepping around Keith’s bike to the second parked there.

“Oh that’s Shiro's,” Keith says.

Trak puts his hands on the front of it, eyes scoping out the console. “What’s the difference?” The captains model is newer, has been upgraded or cared for a little more obsessively than Keith’s. Trak already knows this, has clocked how often Shiro spends time with machinery over his husband, but he needs to keep Keith talking and distracted.

Keith’s still standing against his bike explaining, so Trak bends to keep his movement hidden, and sticks a hack dot under the console.

It’s an outdated model, too old to actually mess with the bike, but it will trip the silent alarm. Trak's counting on it.

Job done, Trak turns from the bike and stalks back to Keith, cutting him off once again with a kiss.

“Babe I could listen to you talk about tech all day but—“ he kisses down Keith’s throat and mouths at where his scent gland should be.

The reaction is instantaneous. Keith grabs at him, pulling him closer and pushing their hips together.

Trak growls and flips their position, leaning back against the bike with Keith nearly on top of him. It’s a better position for when their guest comes running to see who’s trying to steal his bike.

“Keith, babe, I need—“ there won’t be that much time for set up, so Trak takes Keith’s hand and places it on the bulge in his pants. He sucks at Keith's throat, because that seems to work the same way it does for full Galra.

The chemicals have their hooks in Keith, he can feel it in how Keith sways into him, whining. Already his body knows it needs him. “Suck me,” Trak says.

Keith falls to his knees.

That easy compliance will never get old.

It’s seconds to get Trak's pants down, and they don’t bother with any of Keith’s clothing. This will be enough.

Trak props himself comfortably against the side of the bike and watches Keith swallow him.

It’s as hot as it always is, Keith's lips straining against the thickness, the way his eyes flutter closed. He's never more beautiful than on his knees. "You love this," Trak forces himself to keep his eyes open. He doesn’t want to miss any of this, and he just has to know the moment the captain shows.

The anticipation though is making it hard to last. That and the expert way Keith moves on him. He's given almost daily blow jobs and the months of practice really shows. He knows just how to take Trak's cock into his throat, how to swallow around him. He doesn't try to be elegant, lets the drool drip down his face, uses his tongue to massage the sensitive ridges on the underside.

"My perfect little cockslut."

Keith moans and whines around him, loving the taste, trying to get it ever deeper down his throat.

It’s not a moment too late when Trak hears the softest noise of the hanger door sliding open. The Captain.

In response the head of Trak’s cock swells and locks. Keith goes wild.

The sloppy sounds get louder and draw the captain's attention even before the door has closed behind him. His purposeful march falters and halts, and his expression looks like he’s just been shot through the chest.

Trak tries not to immediately come. It’s good, it’s so good. The high is buzzing in his veins so good he can hardly breathe.

When the captain's eyes meet his, it’s almost all over. There’s a burning rage and shock and disgust on his face that makes it all worth it.

On his knees Keith sucks hard and Trak groans louder than he normally would. “That’s it babe," he gasps, "show me how much you want this cock.”

Even from the slight distance there’s no way the captain could miss Keith’s enthusiasm. How he keeps his mouth and throat bulging, working Trak over like it’s the only thing he cares about.

And Trak’s too close to the edge to make this last any longer, but that’s okay because he figures the damage is done.

“Yeah, fuck." It's near agony not to thrust in hard and choke Keith. "Gonna come, you going to swallow all this?” The captain can’t know the real reason this revs Keith up, so it must hurt to think Keith really does love sucking his cock this much.

And maybe that’s why the man is still standing there, face deep red and mouth a snarl as he watches Trak come down Keith’s throat. 

Keith always makes a show of swallowing because it feels so good for him, but Trak plays it up too. Lets it be wild and sloppy, thrusts his cock in finally while the pleasure hits to make Keith choke. His cock pulses and he hopes the captain can see the wetness dripping from Keith’s lips from where he’s standing. It feels amazing, the power of the high so good he can't believe he hasn't done this sooner.

As he comes down, Trak takes a deep and satisfied breath. Beyond them the captain finally shakes from his stupor and bolts.

Keith, he thinks, is none the wiser.

He lets the post-orgasm glow linger as the paladin suckles on him. Keith's a complete mess of saliva and come, there's a notable wet spot on the front of his jeans.

When Trak's knot goes down, he figures he’ll take them back to his room for round two. Having Keith ride him the rest of the night feels like a good reward for all his hard work.

He looks down at the mess on the floor between Keith's knees and decides not to bother cleaning it up. If the captain comes back later, it will serve as a happy reminder.

Keith begins to purr, the vibrations are nice on his softening cock. "You're so perfect," Trak says, and smears the overflow of come across one of his cheeks. Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Shiro is PISSED, and chekhov's gun becomes a plot point.


	8. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gay disaster you say?

 Shiro flees the hanger, shamefully hard in his pants and with a rancid anger biting up the back of his throat. For a moment he’s sure he’s going to be sick.

He goes back to his apartment.

It’s the same as it was before he left. The lights dimmed since Curtis had already gone to bed, his data pad discarded on the couch when Shiro had gotten the alert for the silent alarm. Seeing it all now pisses him off. He hates the silence, the order, he hates that this little life has become so predictable that it was used against him. That the Galra set him up.

Because there’s not a doubt in Shiro’s mind it was a set up. Just a day after they took those bikes out. As if to say, _you may have the hover bikes, but look what I have._

 It makes Shiro sick. He’ll never scrub that image out of his head, of Keith on his knees so eagerly—

It feels like a wound, and Shiro realizes how much he’s been telling himself that Keith was being manipulated, he was being _forced_. But that Galra didn’t have a hand on him. Had been leaned back against the bike and _Keith_ had been the one—

_Fuck_.

Shiro stomps over to the kitchen and slings the refrigerator open. There’s a few beers left over from ages ago and he grabs one and tears the cap off.

It’s unpleasant but cold as it slides down his throat. He drinks half in just a few seconds trying to focus himself on something else.

“Shiro?” From the doorway to their bedroom comes Curtis. He’s still blinking away sleep, softly rumpled from his time in bed.

“Go back to bed,” Shiro says, gruff because he can’t deal with this right now. He can barely deal with his own brain and the anger that’s spinning inside his chest.

“What’s going on?” Curtis shuffles closer looking pointedly at the beer that’s now mostly gone. Shiro thinks the last time Curtis has seen him drink was maybe at their wedding.

“Not now,” he snaps.

Curtis frowns. Shiro’s never been anything more than mildly annoyed with him before. He doesn’t want to be, it’s not about Curtis, but he is the only person around.

That's not a good enough excuse and Shiro knows this. Curtis doesn’t deserve his ire, doesn't deserve to listen to him going on about Keith and Keith's boyfriend. Shiro finishes the beer and slings the bottle into the recycling with more force than necessary. “I’m going to the gym,” he says.

Curtis doesn’t respond and Shiro’s glad for it because it means he takes his rage with him and leaves nothing behind.

If Shiro thought he was bad the last time he had a confrontation with the Galra, tonight blows it out of the water. He rips apart training robots as if they aren’t on the hardest settings and then prowls through the carnage for the next. It’s invigorating and distracting and he burns himself at both ends for who knows how long tearing apart inanimate objects.

He stops only when his arms are too sore to lift and there’s red to purple bruising along his knuckles. Likely he will get reamed out for destroying such expensive equipment, but he can't care about that now. Now he just needs anything to get through the feelings inside him.

It works. By the time the thoughts press back in around him in the shower, it’s with less emotional heft. Shiro sighs into the water and tries to let it all drain out. 

The anger isn’t going to get him anywhere, so he has to put it aside. If Keith is into this guy, then Shiro has to support that. Keith's his best friend. That's what best friends do.

But maybe it’s fair to bring up how the Galra set him up?

That’s a difficult question. It might shed some more light on just what kinda guy Keith is dating, but Shiro also doesn’t want to admit that he saw Keith in a… compromising position. Doesn’t want Keith to feel embarrassed or ashamed. Doesn’t want Keith to think that Shiro’s making it up just to cause problems.

Not that he thinks Keith wouldn’t believe him. Their entire relationship is built upon trust. Keith would believe him. He thinks.

But the doubt is just as hard to shake.

Shiro looks down at himself in the shower. His cock is hard again from the adrenaline. He forces himself to turn the water to cold.

 

##

 

By the morning Shiro still doesn’t have an answer to what’s he’s going to do, but he does have a burgeoning problem with his husband.

His husband, who had slipped out of bed early and was gone by the time Shiro got out of bed and got dressed. His husband, who has never failed to kiss him goodbye before. It hangs loud and ominous in their living room while Shiro has his coffee.

_Great._

Keith comes floating in at lunch, plopping down at his table with his meal and a soft smile that makes Shiro lose all interest in his own.

“Afternoon.”

“Afternoon,” Shiro replies, sullen.

Keith picks up on it immediately and dims. Shiro feels like an asshole. “What’s wrong?”

“Having a fight with Curtis,” Shiro says, because it’s the only truth he can offer.

“Want to talk about it?” Keith reaches across the table to touch his hand. “Oh. _Oh!”_

Shiro looks down at what’s drawn that reaction from Keith and notices his knuckles. They look nasty in the light of day. They also make what he just said sound _horrifying_.

“No! Not like that. This was me at the gym angry. We didn’t— it isn’t like that. I was mad and couldn’t talk to him about it and that upset him. It’ll be fine.”

“Ah, know that feeling,” Keith says. “What were you mad about?”

And there’s the question Shiro needed to avoid. If he wasn’t such a mess today he could have steered the conversation to safer waters. Now he’s stuck. He won’t lie to Keith, and he’s not ready to fumble through the truth.

There’s only one option left to him. “Is it okay if we don’t talk about it?” He keeps his eyes on the table, he hates how it feels like he’s pushing Keith away.

Keith tries to cover his disappointment, but Shiro knows him too well. “Yeah, of course.”

They move on to talk about other things, but Shiro’s omission hangs above them, stifling.

 

##

 

Curtis doesn’t give him an opportunity to apologize for a full day, so on the next when Shiro finishes work first, he runs out and grabs dinner and lays it out in their dining room.

When Curtis comes in Shiro has lights low and greets his husband at the door. “I’m sorry,” he says, taking Curtis’ bag and hanging it up beside the door.

“I had a confrontation with a Galra,” Shiro continues, “and I wasn’t thinking when I came back here. I’m sorry for being short with you.” It’s a well practiced speech just edging the line of honesty.

Curtis lets himself be lead to the table. Already Shiro can tell he’s softening. “I appreciate the apology.” Curtis says.

Shiro takes up the seat beside him. “What can I do to fix this?”

Curtis shifts, looks at the food and not at Shiro. “I’ve been thinking.”

Words no one wants to hear from their partner. Shiro braces himself, but his heart stays steady.

“I think we should take that honeymoon.”

“What?” That’s… not where Shiro thought that sentence was going.

“I’m just stuck on it,” Curtis says. “I thought it would be fine, but it’s not. I want… time with you. We don’t have to go for a week or do a big thing, but I need something. I need days where there’s no Garrison or Atlas or… Galra, just you and me.”

And it’s reasonable, it’s such a reasonable olive branch that Shiro doesn’t really have any other choice. There will never be an easier opportunity to mend their relationship.

“Okay,” Shiro says with more than a little reluctance. He makes sure to keep it out of his voice. “Let’s do that.”

 The light that fills his husbands face is almost painful. He was really expecting Shiro to fight him on this. “Really?”

“Yeah, a couple days right?”

Curtis is grinning now, reaching for him and kissing him over and over. “Yes just a few days. I’ll pull our schedules for the next couple weeks and see what would work best so you don’t miss anything important.”

Keith will be fine for a couple days, right?

Curtis kisses him again and then pulls him up from the table, food forgotten.

Shiro’s not really in the mood, there’s a hundred things banging around in his head, but he lets himself be taken to the bedroom.

Marriage is about compromise, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Trak finds that Keith continues to be difficult to manage, so he brings in more tools.


	9. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: toys, light bondage/gagging, light painplay, smidge of AFAB language.

 The incident with the bikes should have made Trak’s life easier, but he finds himself sniping with Keith more than ever.

It’s unprecedented.

Keith is easily taken in hand when he’s itching for a fix, but once he’s over the high, he’s sneaking out again to see the captain.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times Trak teaches him the lesson, and by the end of another two weeks it’s been _a great many times_ , it doesn’t stick in the same way it has for his previous partners.

It’s fun of course to fill that mouth and know in an hour or two the Captain will see it and _know_ , but it’s still not ideal.

Mostly because outside of the drugs sway, Keith has started to pick fights.

It’s little things: the marks Trak leaves on his skin, the times Trak makes him late or miss meetings, the way Trak has no interest in knowing let alone hanging out with Keith’s other friends.

They’re in a relationship, but it’s not like _that_. And this has never been a problem for him before.

“I have plans, I can’t stay,” Keith says that night when he comes in the door. He’s far enough from his withdrawal that getting him into bed is going to be a challenge.

Still, it would be a worthwhile one if he could make Keith skip his plans altogether. Undoubtedly it would leave the captain hanging.

“That’s okay babe, can we just cuddle a little?”

Non-sexual requests, Trak has found, have a nearly 100% success rate with Keith. The man is so desperate for touch, and Trak has no problems bending that to his own end. He leads the paladin easily toward his couch.

“Sounds nice, I’m so tired,” Keith begins to prattle on about his day and all the things stressing him out.

Trak doesn’t care about them except for how it distracts Keith and allows him to be maneuvered. Trak takes a seat and then guides Keith to lying down with his head in Trak’s lap.

“You work too hard,” Trak says when there’s a break in his rant, dragging his claws across Keith’s skull.

This would be a cheap move for any raised Galra, but Keith doesn’t seem to recognize it as such. Trak makes it work in his favor as Keith talks, petting his hair and then up and down his neck.

“Feels good,” Keith mumbles when he runs out of words. His face is tilted toward Trak, and he encourages it further by tracing Keith’s far ear.

It’s not long then before Keith’s human nose begins to pick up the scent. It’s not conscious, but Trak watches him turn more, nuzzling against Trak’s crotch.

It’s aided as he gets hard and starts leaking in his pants, causing the pheromones in the air to rise. “I like to make you feel good,” Trak croons, pushing Keith’s face gently into the fabric.

Keith’s almost gone already, his eyes half lidded, nose pressed into the line of his cock. His mouth is open and he licks his lips.

This is ideally where he needs to keep Keith if he wants him to forget his later plans. He can’t move this along too quickly or Keith will recover and then leave.

But as Keith starts to suck at the fabric of his pants, he knows that’s easier said than done. He tries to think, but only keeps tripping into things he could do with Keith.

Fortunately one such idea seems as if it might help him. To Keith’s breathy protests, he gets up from the couch. “Just a moment.”

From his bedroom he grabs the black box and returns to the living room. Keith’s just gotten to his feet, dazed and wobbly, but is grateful to retake his position when Trak sits.

As Keith starts pawing at the band of his pants, Trak pulls the length of rope from the box. “A little too eager babe.”

Keith doesn’t care for his words or how he pulls Keith’s hands behind his back to tie them. The paladin only continues to nuzzle and mouth the fabric, creating a wet spot right where the head is.

Trak makes quick work of tying Keith’s wrists and then returns to the box.

“I know you need it,” he says, tugging Keith away by his hair. “But you’ve been bad this week and I think you need to make it up to me.”

Keith pants, eyes on the prize he wants. Trak laughs.

 

##

 He takes his time opening Keith up. He usually likes to use his hands, but since he has the box of toys out, he uses the collection of dildos to size Keith up for him.

Meanwhile Keith is bent over on the couch, face pressed into his discarded underwear, sucking at the fabric to try and get the precome his animal brain can smell. It’s a beautiful image, Keith tied up and whining for it as Trak works a purple dildo in and out of his ass.

This time he gives into the temptation of the data pad nearby and snaps some pictures. He can’t give the captain actual evidence against him, but he yearns to send the snaps off so the captain knows exactly why Keith is standing him up.

Either way these pictures will last Trak when Keith is being otherwise intolerable. He takes a few more, getting in Keith’s watery, desperate face, and then sets the pad aside.

When the dildo comes out slick with lube, Trak figures he’s waited long enough. He still wants Keith to be blissfully tight on him.

He picks Keith up and all but drops him on his cock. It’s a smooth, endless slide that has Keith almost screaming, his hole squeezing around him. It’s amazing.

Keith arches in pleasure or pain and the angle allows Trak in an extra few millimeters. Absolute bliss. Already his cockhead is swelling.

This time he doesn’t want to stay stuck inside. This is a punishment and he wants to see Keith’s little hole take some punishment.

He moves them so Keith is back to being facedown and Trak can brace himself and pull out.

When he starts to, Keith makes a sound he’s never heard before. Automatically, Trak slide all the way back in.

Keith sobs and that’s when Trak notices the wetness on the couch— Keith’s.

“Oh you like that?” He should have known his slut was a size queen. “Then I’ll give you more,” Trak says, and begins to pull out again.

It’s so tight with his head swollen, and Keith moans. He’s wild and writhing, making incredible noises. When the head finally pops from Keith’s abused hole it’s such a vision that Trak is lightheaded. He can’t believe it’s going to go back in that little hole.

Keith’s moaning even before it kisses his rim again. Trak’s absolutely dripping, it’s so hot to watch his cock bully it’s way into Keith.

The push in is every bit as good. The rim stretches, cherry red, and Keith makes a long pleading noise.

So Trak gives his toy what he wants, thrusting deep and then dragging his fat cockhead back out. It’s mesmerizing and Keith’s perfect in turns whimpering and pulsing around him.

It’s on one inexorable slow pull out that Trak begins to come. The first shot spills all over Keith’s hole and then he thrusts in hard, moving by instinct to get the rest of his seed deep. He has claws hard around Keith’s hips, moving the small boy to milk himself dry. It’s a perfect orgasm, leaving him relaxed and sated. He pulls his knotted cock out when he’s finished, cringing at the sensitivity.

It’s worth it to watch the flood of come leak out, Keith’s ruined hole practically weeping.

If he didn’t need Keith under for longer, he’d be scooping some up and feeding it to him. As it is he moves Keith off the couch and onto his knees. Immediately the paladins eyes zero in on Trak's messy and softening cock.

“Not yet,” Trak says, reach for his underwear to wipe himself off a little.

Keith doesn’t listen, likely can’t with how deep he his, and leans into to try and get a taste.

But Trak has just the gag to solve that problem.

 

##

 Hours later with Keith tied and gagged at his feet, Trak thinks maybe it’s time for another round. He’s just finished watching a film, which admittedly he didn’t actually see much of. It was much more entertaining to watch Keith desperately rub his face against him. The paladin could smell it, could put his cheek right against Trak’s cock, but couldn’t get it in his mouth. Couldn’t even try and suck the drying come off the fabric. It has been a frustrating two hours for him, but has soothed every bitter part of Trak.

Not to mention he’s heard Keith’s communicator go off several times during the film, and the paladin hadn’t spared a moments concern for it. Had only been focused on how he could get the gag out of the way.

Now it was time to give him just what he wanted.

“You want this?” He has one hand around his cock, jerking it to hardness. With the other he draws Keith closer.

The paladin makes a pleasing noise behind the gag. Trak drags his cock across Keith’s cheek, lingering near his nose so he can breathe in the smell.

“You think you deserve it?” Those beautiful eyes flicker up, maybe he can’t understand the words but he clearly gets the context. There’s a plea written all over his features. “Why shouldn’t I just fuck that sloppy cunt of yours again?” He rubs the head of his cock on those pink lips.

Trak lets this go on for a few seconds more and then reaches for the tie to the gag. “You better make it worth it,” Trak warns, voice low, “Or next time I tie you up I’ll just come in that ass and dump you back in your room for someone else to deal with.”

Though Trak really has no doubt Keith is going to work hard. He’s been strung out for hours, and although it’s not withdrawal exactly, his brain is already chemically wired to need this.

He removes the gag and then leans back on the couch.

Keith is on him in a second, Swallowing what he can get at that angle with his hands still tied.

Trak lets him. It’s hot to watch him struggle, to watch him choke himself as he tries to get Trak to come as quick as possible.

Trak’s glad the first orgasm took the edge off so he can last. There’s something very satisfying about knowing Keith can’t leave until he makes him come. He stuck there on his knees even if his mouth tires because he has to get his fix.

The power of it never fails to make his pleasure deeper.

So Trak thinks of other things and lets Keith tire himself out. His lips grow swollen and softer around his girth, but it lets Keith get an inch deeper.

In his throat is where he makes the most leeway coaxing Trak to orgasm.

“That’s it. Your throat’s so tight, I love it when you choke on it.” The head is expanding now and Keith backs up a little so he doesn’t block his airway completely. “Bet the captain loved seeing you like this. Bet he went back to his room and jerked off thinking about it. Maybe I should let him have you just to take you away. You think that would be fun?”

Keith has nothing to say, he’s renewed his sucking recognizing all of Trak’s tells.

And Trak wants to come, so he matches Keith with gentle thrusts. “Suck me, fucking slut,” he groans, reaching for Keith’s hair.

He comes as deep as possible in Keith’s throat, chasing every pulse of his orgasm using Keith’s mouth.

By the time his knot releases, Keith is half asleep. His bruised mouth is still trying to hold the head of Trak's cock.

Trak puts on another film. Surely Keith owes him one more orgasm for the trouble. He cradles Keith’s head to keep his cock in that warmth and settles in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just by the nature of what this story is I know it's harder to comment on, so just let me say I adore every one of you that do. I thought I was gonna be deep in the weeds just writing for myself here, so it delights me you guys like this story.
> 
> Next time: Keith is beginning to feel like something is wrong with him.


	10. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: just a warning from here on out we will be seeing Keith's hurt as he starts to question what's going on, and it may make the noncon stuff harder to read. This story will absolutely have a happy ending, but just be careful because my boy Keith is not done suffering yet.

The morning after Keith doesn’t show, there’s a knocking far too early at his door. Curtis is still asleep when Shiro drags himself out, ready to give Keith a few sniping words if it’s indeed him.

But when Shiro opens the door the look on Keith’s face wipes away all his own anger. Keith looks… bad.  

“Shiro,” his voice is croaky which matches his red eyes. He’s been crying.

“Keith,” Shiro takes him in more acutely. He’s still in his pajamas, his arms wrapped right around his own torso. His hair is braided, seemingly from yesterday, because now it’s messy and half undone. “What’s happened?”

And already Shiro has a pretty good feeling. The fist of his metal arm tightens.

“Is there… somewhere we can talk?”

“Shiro who’s at the door?” Comes a voice from behind him in the apartment. Shiro glances over his shoulder at Curtis.

Curtis must get a look at Keith, because his face transforms from annoyed to deeply concerned.

“Come in,” Shiro says to Keith, as it’s important to get him out of the hall.

Curtis, bless him, doesn’t stare but retreats to the bedroom. “I’ve got an early meeting,” he calls, “you two will have to do breakfast without me.”

He doesn’t have a meeting. When he comes back dressed and ready to leave, Shiro squeezes his hand and gives him a soft kiss in thanks.

Then his husband is out the door and it’s just him and Keith.

“I’m sorry,” Keith says, voice cracking in the middle. The paladin collapses onto his couch like the last of his energy has run out. “It’s too early but I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t know where else to go and—“

“Hey, hey,” Shiro is quick to round the coffee table the take a seat next to Keith. He places a hand softly on his shoulder. “You don’t have to apologize, you can come here anytime. It’s fine. What’s going on?”

Keith goes to grab at his braid, but then realizes it’s a wreck and settles for fiddling with just his hands. “I— I don’t know. We had plans and I just— I just forgot. I woke up at like four and remembered.”

“It’s okay,” Shiro says, even though the confirmation hurts.

“No! It’s not like… I shouldn’t forget something like that. I was with Trak and, _quiznak_ I hate people who do that! Just start dating and fuck off. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Because Shiro can’t help himself, the question spills out, “Did Trak do something?”

“What?” Keith finally turns to look at him. Shiro gets a flash of memory, that same beautiful face tilted up, mouth full—

_Stop._

“No, no,” Keith is going on. “I even told him I had to leave soon when I got there and he said it was fine. It’s me, I just—“ his cheeks are blushed, but then his embarrassment crumbles into shame. “There’s something wrong with me.”

Shiro is trying to grasp the shape of it, but Keith’s distress doesn’t match what he’s saying.

“Because you forgot our plans? Keith it was one time—“

“No!” Keith springs up onto his feet, frustration in every line of his body. “No, forget what I said. It’s not like forgetting. I forget a lot of stuff and it wasn’t like that. It was like… it was like a bomb could be going off on the other side of the door and I wouldn’t have cared. Like when I see Trak it’s the only thing I can focus on.”

Something wrenches hard in Shiro’s gut. All the pieces slide into place and it’s— he tries to swallow but there’s a hard knot. Out of all the possible outcomes Shiro did _not_ see this one coming. Keith’s never showed more than a lick of interest in anyone and now he’s head over heels for this Galra? _This Galra?!_

“Oh,” Shiro manages. His brain plays it all out in fast forward: a marriage, the two of them off together exploring the galaxy, doing Blades work. Kids? Shiro doesn’t even know. Maybe.

And Shiro can’t imagine any room left for him. Not with how the Blade hates him, not with how already Keith is forgetting they even had plans.

“Oh?” Keith has stopped pacing to look at him.

The rot is so fast and heavy in Shiro’s gut. He wants his best friend to be happy, but at the same time he doesn’t want to lose him. This feels like loss. Why has it never occurred to him before that they were heading in this direction?

Shiro got married, what did he think the outcome was of that?

“I just didn’t know it was so serious already.” The words taste like acid.

“What?” Keith looks more confused than ever.

It reminds Shiro that this is likely his first love, that he’s so distressed because he doesn’t recognize it. Shiro would rather have anyone on the whole planet deliver this news, but Keith’s come to him. Keith wants his best friend's input.

“Keith you’re in love with him. That’s why,” Shiro makes a waving gesture to the space between them.

Keith laughs. “What? No.”

“Yeah,” Shiro sighs, his eyes on the carpet. He’s not doing this well, but in his defense he’s had no time to prepare or even have his coffee.

“No,” Keith sits next to him and bumps his shoulder. “I know what being in love feels like and this is not it.”

That’s news to Shiro as well. “Every time is different.”

Now Keith shoves him. “No, idiot, listen to what I’m saying. I’m not some starry-eyed novice to love. I don’t date a lot, sure, but I know what I do and I know what I don’t do in dating, and I’m trying to tell you that something is _wrong_ with me and— and I need you to believe me. I need you to… to help me.”

He tugs at Shiro’s hand to get him to look at him. When he meets those violet eyes they’re intense and worried.

It loosens the coil in Shiro’s belly. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Keith is saying something different here. “You’re sure?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Come on Shiro, I’ve been seeing Trak like… what? A few months tops. You know me, does it _seem likely?”_

“No, but weirder things have happened.”

“Oh shut up,” Keith says. He takes Shiro’s human hand and squeezes it. “We are far from that serious, haven’t even had a chance to tell Mom we’re dating since she’s on mission.”

“Okay,” Shiro takes a deep breath and tries to reel his emotions back in. Keith came here freaking out, he needs help, not to deal with Shiro’s bullshit. Focus. “Maybe it’s a Galra thing?”

“I considered it.”

“Is this the first Galra you’ve… dated?”

Keith colors and pulls his hand back. “If you mean slept with, it’s not.”

“Ah.” The idea is discomforting.

Keith gives him a disapproving look. “You really did still have me pegged as that novice cadet.”

Shiro has the grace to look chagrined. “Sorry.”

Keith gets up to head to the kitchen. He begins working with their coffee pot. “No it’s fine, it just explains a lot.”

“Like what?” Shiro asks, but Keith ignores the question and continues making coffee.

“So,” Keith says then, getting out mugs. “Any other ideas?”

 

##

 

They miss their morning work, and Shiro has to send in messages excusing both of them for personal reasons. It’s likely to cause a stir, but after the morning Shiro’s had, he doesn’t have a single extra fuck to give.

They spend the time discussing what Keith should do. Ask Krolia? Maybe, but she’s out of range and maybe it would be a better conversation for when she comes back next month.

Go to the medic? Possible, but Keith feels embarrassed that it’ll only prove to be something wrong with his _head_ not his body.

“Maybe we should just take a break. Trak and I? That way I would know if it’s just me or it’s me _with_ him.” Shiro’s been thinking it for a while, but he’s glad Keith comes to it on his own.

Shiro finishes his sandwich and hums noncommittally.

“What do you think?” Keith asks, because he isn’t letting Shiro off so easy.

Shiro knows what answer he wants to give, but isn’t sure his motivations are the most pure. He’s reminded he hasn’t told Keith about walking in on them in the hanger. Hasn’t decided if it’s something he should bring up.

“I think” Shirk says carefully, “that you should do whatever makes you feel better. I really thought something awful had happened to you when you showed up this morning, and I never want to see you like that. I think whatever choice you make is the right one because you’re aware of your behaviors and what you don’t want, and are trying to change it.”

Keith’s leaned back on the couch now, legs out straight and just touching Shiro’s thigh. He smiles. “That was a very diplomatic answer.”

It was. Purposefully. “I just don’t want to interfere with your relationships.”

Keith laughs, loud and strangely, but when Shiro gives him a questioning look he waves him off. “You’re just such a good friend,” Keith says getting up off the couch, “Now let me borrow something of yours so no one sees me in the hallway in my pajamas.”

Shiro does, and lets Keith go only because his eyes have brightened and that sickly sadness has stop clinging to him. But even long after he goes Shiro is thinking about it, worried that something is happening to his best friend and he should be doing a better job of preventing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Keith breaks up with him, but that doesn't mean Trak can't still get what he wants.


	11. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags

 Sure, Trak had been playing a little fast and loose with Keith, but he can smell the captain all over this.

“So I just think we should take a break. Works been busy, you know, and I think maybe I just need some downtime just me.” Keith’s been working up to this for the last ten minutes, face earnest but stern. He has his hands on Trak’s, but is keeping a respectful distance.

“I like you,” Keith says, “I do.”

“I like you too,” Trak says. His mouth tastes bitter.

“So can you give me some time? To figure out what’s going on with me?”

That’s laughable. Trak nods. It earns him a smile.

It was one cancellation too many, and that _damned human_ got in his ear. It’s not great.

But then Keith’s leaning in to kiss him on the cheek and Trak thinks maybe this can work for him. Hadn’t he just been thinking how he’d like to give Keith a little more rope and then snatch him right back out of the captain’s hands?

Trak reaches out and touches Keith’s cheek. “I will miss you,” he says softly, sliding his claws down to touch the sensitive part of Keith’s neck. “You are welcome here anytime.”

He can see Keith try to repress the shiver, but Trak doesn’t miss how his pupils begin to dilate.

He rubs that spot just a little more and then removes his hands.

Keith nods, sort of absently, and then stumbles his way to his feet. Trak watches him go, already thinking of how to set the trap. It shouldn’t be too difficult.

 

##

 

At thirty Vargas, Trak makes sure to cross paths with Keith. He’s just coming into the gym changing room as Trak has finished his workout.

It had been a hard and satisfying one, better for knowing he was going to run into Keith when he was done.

So he walks into the changing room, sweat soaked and still catching his breath. He’s half hard in his shorts, but that’s pretty standard for a workout.

Keith at his locker freezes, and then turns.

“Hey,” Trak says, overly friendly.

“Hey,” Keith’s eyes go up and down him, lingering on his stomach where his shirt is stuck with sweat.

The paladin abruptly turns away and bangs his locker open.

Trak can’t help the smile. If his own smell weren’t so strong right now, he bets he could smell Keith. The man looks a little pink around the collar.

“Nothing like a good workout,” Trak pulls off his shirt, walking down the aisle to his own locker. He passes closer to Keith than he really need to.

Keith tries not to look and fails. Trak drops his dirty shirt on the bench and then toes off his shoes.

“Yeah,” Keith’s voice sounds rough.  He keeps trying to looking away but then peeking at Trak.

So Trak slides his claws down to the band of his shorts, plucking at the knot. He can feel Keith’s eyes, the lust he’s trying not to give into.

When Trak pushes down his shorts he turns his body just slightly to give Keith a look at his half hard cock.

It’s been less than two days, but more than enough time for Keith to start getting itchy. For his brain to start prodding him that he needs something. Something only Trak can provide.

Trak shifts to open his locker and to let his dick move a little. It’s getting heavier between his legs in anticipation.

He can still feel Keith’s eyes. He wonders if the paladin is drooling for it, if the urge is almost too strong to bear yet.

Trak grabs a clean set of clothing and turns to go to the showers.

But Keith’s right there in the way. He has closed the distance between them silently, eyes tracking glistening muscles all the way down.

“Something you want?” Trak asks.

But Keith’s already slipped under, his eyes are blown out and his breath is shallow. Trak doesn’t even have to suggest it, the paladins knees fold without care.

Those slender hands begin to run over Trak’s thigh, scratching at his fur and angling his heavy cock toward Keith’s mouth.

“I thought you wanted space babe,” Trak says, but then he grabs a fistful of Keith’s hair and plunges into his throat.

Keith’s a fool if he thinks Trak would ever give this up.

But right now Keith doesn’t care about their previous conversation, about his much beloved _space,_ he doesn’t care about anything but swallowing cock.

Trak silently thanks his ancestors and then takes control. He knows he’s not going to last after the work out and the anticipation, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy it completely. Keith broke up with him, but two days later here he is on his knees doing an admirable job of sucking him down. The paladin just can’t stay away, and the thought makes his cock harder.

“You can have this whenever you want,” Trak gasps. He hopes the words soak into Keith’s subconscious and haunt him. “Just come crawl into my bed day or night and I’ll fuck your throat. I’d never deny you.”

Keith trills, sucking hard and messy around the fattening head. Trak wishes he could be there later when Keith comes out of it. When he realizes what he’s done. “You’re so perfect, just made to have my cock down your throat.”

Keith’s hands are still scraping at his thighs, pulling him in, so Trak gives it to him. He thrusts twice more into that heat and comes, filling the paladin's mouth.

There’s a mess as there is every time, and Trak is careful to take some of it and smear it into Keith’s hair, into the shirt he’s still wearing. He wants the reminders of him all around Keith. Wants the man to remember the gnawing ache, the need to follow the scent to the source.

His cock throbs at the idea of waking up with Keith already sucking on him. It’s somehow even hotter now that Keith’s broken up with him. That he couldn’t resist it, just a hungry little slut sneaking into his apartment to get his fix.

When Trak’s knot releases, he helps Keith push the remainder of the come into his mouth. Keith is barely present, eyes closed in bliss as he licks clean their fingers, Trak’s soft cock.

Then Trak takes his clean clothes to the shower and leaves Keith there on his knees. He doesn’t look anything other than well used, and anyone could come in and see him.

But they’re not dating after all, so Trak doesn’t have any responsibility to take care of him.

He enjoys the thought of Keith kneeling there in a puddle of sweat and come for the rest of his shower. By the time he gets out, the paladin has vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The boys discuss Keith's issue, and Curtis is (a)woke.


	12. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags, lotsa talky.

“I took care of the schedule,” Curtis is at the stove stirring whatever dinner is going to be. “Are you sure skiing is okay?”

Shiro swipes at his data pad, paging through the information on the ski resort. He’s never been skiing, isn’t much for snow, but this is for his husband. “Yeah of course.”

“It’s just everyone does the beach thing, and I haven’t been to Colorado in years.”

Shiro can hear how excited he is to go back. Curtis’ family were avid skiers. “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

He hopes he sounds like he means it. An incoming message dings on his data pad. It’s from Keith. He switches over to it.

 

Keith: you busy?

Shiro: what’s up?

Keith: I don’t wanna text it, tonight good for you?

 

Shiro looks up at Curtis, but his husband isn’t paying any mind, working on dinner. He shouldn’t, they’re literally discussing their honeymoon trip because Curtis doesn’t feel like he’s getting enough time with Shiro.

But then he remembers Keith at his door two days ago, distraught.

Plus Shiro badly wants to know how the breakup with Trak went.

 

Shiro: midnight?

Keith: see you then

 

Shiro flips back to the page on the ski resort.

 ##

 

When Shiro gets to their exit, Keith is already there.

The man crushes himself to Shiro, tucking his head into Shiro’s throat, hands tightening in his shirt.

“Oh, hey,” Unexpected, but worrying. Shiro hugs him back tight.

“Sorry,” Keith whispers.

“No you’re fine,” Shiro says. And it is, more than fine. He feels tension he didn’t know he was carrying drain right out of him.

They stand that way for longer than polite. Shiro doesn’t try to stop it, Keith feels like he needs it.

When the man pulls back, it's reluctant and his face is softer but tired looking.

“You okay?”

Keith tilts his head forward to lean it on Shiro’s shoulder and avoid eye contact. “Not really. Let’s go outside.”

They do, and Shiro follows Keith who seems to have a set destination. The night is cool and quiet, Keith’s forgotten a jacket again.

He stops them on the far side where there’s a bench overlooking a courtyard. It’s empty at this time. Keith sits down and Shiro follows.

“So I told Trak I wanted to take a break yesterday.”

Shiro’s heart leaps. He does his best to keep his face neutral. “Oh?”

“And it was fine, he took it well.”

Keith’s words don’t match his demeanor. On top of Shiro’s happiness comes the creeping feeling of dread. If Trak’s done anything to Keith, Shiro will go find him right this minute and tear him apart. “Okay, good,” Shiro says cautiously.

“Yeah. Then. Uh. Remember what we talked about last time?”

It would be impossible to forget. Shiro’s been thinking of it since, hating the idea that this Galra has any sway over Keith. “Yeah.”

“Well earlier today I was… um. So I was between jobs and I thought it would be a good time to go to the gym. But when I got there Trak was in the changing room.”

Shiro grits his teeth, but doesn’t notice until the sound of the bench creaking beneath his metal arm reaches him. Keith’s eyes zero in on it.

“Not like that, Shiro it isn’t that.” The words rush out of Keith’s mouth.

Shiro takes a deep breath. Reminds himself that Keith is capable of taking care of himself. If a Galra tried something like _that_ , Keith would have knifed him down himself.

“It was me. It was like I saw him and something just came over me and then we were, ah—" It’s too dark to pick out a blush, but Shiro’s brain supplies the image. “And then it was like an hour later and I was at home and it’s like I came back to my senses.”

It’s not unusual for ex-couples to fall back into orbit for sex. Still, the way that Keith is not meeting his eyes, form stiff and speaking about it like he’s ashamed, it doesn’t sit right with Shiro. It reminds him of— “do you think it could be like a Druid thing?” His brain re-sorts all the information. “It was kinda like that for me under Haggar’s control. I would sort of come back to myself.”

“But there aren’t any Druids around?”

“Could Trak—“

“No.” Keith cuts him off, then sighs. “I know you two don’t like each other, but I think I would notice if my boyfriend was a Druid.”

“Ex,” Shiro adds. Then he looks away, face hot from being caught pointing the finger at the Galra again.

“Ex,” Keith says. “Fuck, do I have to have that conversation with him again? Like, ‘sorry about that thing in the locker room, just my burgeoning sex addiction!’”

Shiro chokes and then coughs. “Keith!”

And then Keith is elbowing him playfully. “Come on we’ve both thought it, even if you’re too honorable to ever say it out loud.”

“You’re not a sex addict, Keith.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

 But Shiro is shaking his head. Keith may not think so, but Shiro is sure there’s still something up with the Galra. “I think you should go for a check-up. Especially if you’re… doing things you don’t want to be doing.”

Keith groans and leans his head back against the bench. In the dim moon light Shiro studies the planes of his face. All sharp angles with soft accents. “When it comes back it’s a Galra thing it’ll be so embarrassing.”

“Worth it to know.”

A colder breeze whips by and Keith folds his arms to conserve heat. Automatically Shiro takes off his jacket and places it over the other paladin.

“Thanks. You’re probably right. I keep thinking of doing it, but then I keep dragging my feet.”

Shiro watches him snuggle down into the jacket. He’s down quite a few jackets now at this point, but it’s worth it to be able to offer Keith just a little comfort.

“It’s going to be okay,” he leans back against the bench himself, gazing up at the stars overhead. “But maybe avoid Trak if you think you’re going to… do that again?”

Keith shuffles a little, and then his head is right beside Shiro’s. The smell of his shampoo is relaxing. “Yeah,” Keith says.

 

##

 

They spend far too long sitting on the bench stargazing. By the time Shiro is back at his apartment door he’s waning badly, eyes drooping and head groggy. So of course it’s this time that Curtis catches him sneaking back in.

Catch is a broad term. When Shiro gets in, Curtis is on their couch propped up like he’d been waiting on Shiro, but fast asleep.

There’s no way he can leave his husband sleeping like that, even if that means waking him up and dealing with the resulting conflict. Shiro’s man enough to admit when he’s caught, and Curtis deserves not to suffer a crick in his neck the whole next day just because Shiro was being cowardly.

“Curtis,” he keeps his voice low, gently rubbing at his husbands shoulder. “Babe you can’t sleep out here, come to bed.”

Curtis comes to slowly, his data pad dropping to the carpet as he comes awake. “Taka?”

“Yeah, come on, it’s bed time.”

Curtis is still half asleep, so it’s easy to lead him into their room and into bed. It’s only as Shiro is stripping off his clothes, beginning to hope he’s going to get some sleep before a confrontation, that Curtis perks up.

“I was waiting for you,” Curtis says. The bathroom light is on, casting hard shadows across the bedroom.

Shiro dumps his clothes in the laundry basket and takes a seat on the bed. “I’m sorry it’s so late.” He meets Curtis’ eyes, tries to project how sincere he is.

“Where were you?”

“With Keith.”

Curtis blinks, nods, doesn’t look at all surprised by the information. His face is blank.

Still, Shiro feels like he needs to justify himself. It’s not like that. “We just walked around, he needed to talk.”

“How many times?”

Shiro maybe should have expected this question, but he didn’t. “Uh,” he’s not going to lie, but he honestly doesn’t know. Even if he did the answer doesn’t sound… great. “A lot.”

Curtis hums. “I thought you’d seemed more tired than usual the last couple weeks.”

“It’s just the only time Keith has available. You know he’s been having issues with his boyfriend. He needed a friend to talk to.”

“And how’s that going?”

“I mostly just listen.”

“No,” Curtis says. “The boyfriend, a _Galra_ right?”

And _oops,_ Shiro walked right into that. “Yeah. It’s… they’re on a break.”

“Okay,” Curtis says. Then he sighs and lays back down in bed.

“Okay?” Shiro says. His husband isn’t looking at him and has already closed his eyes. Shiro doesn’t understand the lack of anger or accusations.

“Yeah, okay. Can you turn the light off?”

“I don’t understand,” Shiro says, even as he gets up to comply.

Curtis rolls onto his side and looks at Shiro, their eyes meet as his fingers are on the light switch. “Are you cheating on me?”

“No!” The answer leaps from Shiro’s mouth, horrified.

“Exactly. You wouldn’t do that, so I don’t want to have that conversation. I’m not happy that you’ve been sneaking out and felt like you had to hide it, but I’m choosing to trust that your heart was in the right place.”

“It was! It is! I wouldn’t— it isn’t—“

“I know.” Curtis says. “And frankly, it’s 4AM and I’m tired, I can be angry just as effectively tomorrow when I’m fully rested. So please just turn off the light and come to bed.”

That shuts down everything else Shiro could possibly say. Instead he just complies, turning off the light and slipping into bed.

The space between them is cold and unbreachable.

It’s good that Curtis trusts him, that he doesn’t believe Shiro is the kind of person who would cheat on him, but the whole conversation still leaves Shiro shaken.

He hasn’t done anything wrong, so why does he feel so much shame? Why does he feel like he just lied to his husband?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we don't love Curtis McBlandMan, but I hate that trope that he's /awful/ so Shiro would leave him. Shiro would leave him because of Keith and we all know it. Therefore my Curtis is going to be a reasonable adult who just can't compete with tru luv ya'll.
> 
> Next time: Trak continues to get his, and Shiro is pushed to his moral edge.


	13. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags.

Trak wants to wait it out, wants to let the vargas slip by until Keith has no choice but to come crawling back to him.

But the thing is, it’s just so much _fun_ to find ways to trap him. They still have meetings together and occasional field work where they get paired together. They’ve always worked well together so management sees no need to change that, especially since Keith has yet to make it an issue.

Trak takes advantage of the access.

Right now he has Keith on his knees under the flight console. They’ve finished taking solar panels to some distant small human island, and now they’re supposed to be flying back to the Garrison.

Except Trak made sure to crowd Keith as he was bringing their work gear back up to the ship. Played being helpful by delivering lunch up to the cockpit, standing beside Keith’s chair until Keith had no other choice.

It only works when Keith’s heading toward withdrawal, but that’s often enough to satisfy Trak.

He was beautiful falling to his knees, food forgotten for another hunger. Trak took up the pilot chair without hesitation and pulled his cock free.

The smell is heady. Trak’s been making sure to rub his come around, not enough to be uncomfortable for himself, just a little extra scent to help. To make sure Keith’s brain cues him in.

Trak drags his claws through Keith’s hair, using it as leverage to get his cock deep in Keith’s throat. Through the front window of the ship it’s still daylight, there are people moving around doing work.

If they looked up they would see him just sitting in his chair, Keith is hidden. He bets even if they could see Keith, it wouldn’t be enough to stop either of them.

Keith sucks him hard, whining for it. Trak imagines it in a meeting, across the table from the captain and Keith... the paladin sliding under the table like he can’t help himself. The shock and horror of everyone around them as Keith scrambles to get his cock down his throat.

“Yeah,” Trak hisses. “You’d do this even with everyone watching, wouldn’t you? Just my perfectly trained slut.”

His cockhead is swelling and he lets himself be pulled toward his orgasm. Keith is a crooning mess, and will be worse when Trak fills him.

And Trak could pilot them back, just leave Keith on the floor, face smeared in what everyone would know was come. He should, as a punishment. Should set Keith up so everyone can see what a little slut he is.

He pushes into the tightness of Keith’s throat and re-imagines it. He could leave Keith bent over in a public place, his hole dripping and too glassy eyed to do anything about it. And someone might come along, might see that wrecked hole as the perfect opportunity—

The thought is so searing he starts to come. Keith makes sounds of bliss, coaxing with his tongue, his hands, and Trak groans. He can see the picture Keith would make, and wants it, it makes his cock absolutely throb through the end of his orgasm.

When he comes down, he runs his hands across Keith’s face. “You’d be so beautiful,” he says.

But Keith can’t understand him, doesn’t care for anything right now but trying to lap up the rest of the come that’s dripping from his swollen lips.

 

##

 

After that, mysteriously, they have no more assignments together. Trak mourns the loss for the following two days and then is awoke in the middle of the night by a body sliding into his bed.

His first thought is of danger, he is a Blade after all, but by the time his hand is clasping around the persons neck he can already smell Keith, can hear his keening whine.

“Ah, something you need kit?”

His room is dark and even with his eyes it’s hard to see, but the way Keith is making noise and trying to get at the sheets covering him, Trak assumes he’s beyond language.

And then Trak does some math and figures out that Keith’s at forty vargas without.

“You held out valiantly,” Trak says, tugging the blanket aside. Already his cock is filling with the promise of a nice warm hole. “But let’s get you what you need.”

Keith doesn’t need much help, eager to slide down Trak’s body. Still, Trak takes himself in hand and feeds his cock into Keith’s mouth. He gives his boy the sustenance he badly needs. It feels amazing.

They spend another night with Keith suckling on him, and when the paladin has disappeared before Trak wakes, he regrets not getting that ass as well.

But there’s always next time.

The Captain appears that evening as Trak is doing paperwork in the shared office. It's well into dinner time, and Trak is the only one left in the room.

“I want you to stay away from Keith,” the man says instead of a greeting.

Trak grins, he can’t help it, he loves when his playthings come to him. “Good evening Captain Shirogane.”

“Don’t play at niceties with me.” The captain growls. He’s now at the desk Trak is using, looming over as if to intimidate.

It’s not, because Trak isn’t scared of him. The captain doesn’t use violence outside of war, and even if he did, even if somehow Trak could push his buttons that far, it wouldn’t play well. Trak is technically a lower rank, and now Keith’s ex.

The optics are… bad.

Trak laughs. “Oh but I like playing with you.”

“I will report you to the leads, to Kolivan.”

Trak leans back in his chair, “Report me for what exactly?”

“Inappropriate behavior, harassment.”

He cocks his head as if thinking this over. “Those Keith’s words, or yours?”

The captain's face shifts and that’s Trak’s answer even if the other man is too prideful to say. Dear Keith hasn’t yet truly pointed the finger at him.

Trak wonders if Keith’s already been to the clinic. Surely by now he’s found his own behavior wildly uncharacteristic and wondered if there was something wrong with him.

Trak has gone through this before with previous partners when he got sick of them and moved on. It’s how he knows his hormones don’t show up on a standard drug panel, that the withdrawal can’t be pinned back to him unless someone specifically knows what his Galra lineage is mixed with.

Even then it’s not like they go around spreading the knowledge. It’s a good secret to keep.

“I know it’s your doing,” the captain says. “And I’m warning you to stay away from him.”

Trak begins to pack up his paperwork. “Sure Captain,” Trak says. “But maybe you should tell that to Keith, he’s the one breaking into my apartment in the middle of the night desperate to ride my cock.”

The metal hand moves as if to grab at Trak, but the captain stops himself. Trak grins with all his teeth, putting his work into his bag.

“But just for you, I’ll try. Next time he’s sliding that tight little ass down on me, I’ll tell him you said we shouldn’t. I’ll take a video and send it to you, so you can see how enthusiastically he likes to—“

The captain hauls Trak up out of the chair and slams him against the near wall. It’s impressive only in the sense that so few people are capable of moving Trak in any direction.

“Shut the fuck up you disgusting _flaxvar!”_ He half spits it in Trak’s face, completely red in fury.

“There’s a racist term I haven’t heard in a while. Have some secret feelings about the Galra, do you?”

“Just one in particular.”

“All this anger,” Trak tisks, “And for what? If you want to get your dick sucked I’m sure Keith would be amenable. We are, after all, no longer exclusive.”

The Captain doesn’t hit him, but the intent is in every inch of his body. He’s gasping for air, so angry his hands dig hard into Trak’s shoulders.

“I hate you,” he says. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you leave Keith alone.”

“I wish you luck with that” Trak says. “Now either hit me or let me go because this is becoming tedious.”

The Captain holds, seems to hold as if he’s trying to manage his anger, trying not to solve this problem with his fist. It’s amusing. “Or we could wait until someone walks by and sees their beloved captain hassling some mid-ranking Galra.”

This makes more of an impact. The man pries his hands off Trak and steps back.

“Good choice,” Trak says.

“Fuck you.”

Trak picks up his bag and walks around the Captain. “Temping, Captain, but these days I like them slender and complaint.”

Trak hears the sound of metal crunch before he leaves the room, and it’s almost as good as Keith’s whining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know! But Shiro is just too good to punch someone without real, concrete evidence. 
> 
> Next time: Shiro comes up with a plan, Curtis is unimpressed.


	14. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of you mentioned not getting update notifications for this one, and it must be an anon thing? Just know that I'm pretty dedicated to updating this daily until it's done, and I drop it in the morning EST.
> 
> No new tags.

Shiro doesn’t know what to do. Every other day or so Keith comes to him in distress. It’s almost always the same: he saw Trak and they ended up having sex. Keith maintains it's not him, that he’s not even making the choice to do so, it’s as if his body is on auto pilot.

All his work came back normal at the clinic. Well normal within human and Galra parameters. There was higher than normal dopamine level in his bloodstream, but then again… he’s having a lot of sex.

Otherwise no drugs, no Druid magic, no space worms. For all intents and purposes Keith’s healthy.

Shiro ended up so desperate to help Keith that that he went and confronted Trak yesterday. It wasn’t helpful except in confirming Shiro’s bias. It's his gut feeling that the strange behavior Keith is suffering from is directly caused by the Galra.

He’d just seemed so smug. So certain that Keith was going to keep coming back to him. That Keith had snuck into his bed—?

Keith hadn’t mentioned that one. All the incidents he’s told Shiro about were run ins, sort of accidental. If he’s actively tracking Trak down that’s…

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do except to monitor Keith. To be with him as much as possible and try to witness this behavior first hand.

But it’s easier said than done. While their schedules match up better since Pidge fixed them, they’re still not identical. Keith still has Blade specific work, and even though they’ve sorted out him being paired with Trak, the potential for run-ins there is high.

Not to mention Shiro isn’t with Keith in his own apartment during the mornings and evenings. He’s even had to pare back their late night walks so as not to cause more issues with Curtis.

But every time Keith comes to him with that haunted look in his eyes, he knows it’s not enough.

Today when Keith shows up to lunch looking upset, Shiro decides he won’t mention Trak’s comments. It doesn’t matter if Keith’s going to him if Keith doesn’t _want_ to. And Shiro never wants to even _suggest_ any of this is Keith’s fault.

Keith puts his head down on the table and sighs.

 “Again?”

Keith mumbles.

Shiro reaches over and pets his hair. “Maybe we should look into getting you a monitor or bodyguard.”

They’ve been circling this idea. Someone who could tail Keith 24/7. Keith hates the idea of giving up that much privacy, of alerting anyone else to his situation, of potentially allowing them to see him in whatever state he slips into.

“I hate people.”

Shiro hums and trails his fingers across the back of Keith’s neck. The muscles are stiff from stress. “What about a friend? Pidge?”

The suggestion makes Keith groan. “And have her know about this gross thing for all of eternity?”

“She wouldn’t judge.”

Keith picks up his head and looks at Shiro. “Shiro, it was hard enough telling you.”

The most obvious solution is to have Shiro do it. But he’s been avoiding this conclusion, he knows it’s going to be a problem with Curtis, and rightfully so.

But _Keith_.

“I could do it,” Shiro says.

Keith tilts his head to peek at him. “I’ve already inconvenienced you.”

“So might as well go all in,” Shiro jokes.

This makes Keith frown, sitting up properly. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to. Anyway it’ll just be like a couple days right, and then maybe we will know what’s up with you.”

Keith’s still frowning, but then he sighs. “If you’re sure.”

Keith’s literally clawed him back from the clutches of death, he justifies to himself, doing this small favor is nothing in return. Furthermore it will let Shiro feel like he’s actively helping, not just sitting around. “I am.”

They go over the parameters of the arrangement. They’ll need to have it cleared with work and Curtis, but Shiro’s confident he can get that done within a few days. He downplays the issue with Curtis so Keith doesn’t feel bad. He needs help, real help, and that has to come first. There’s no reason to feel guilty.

It’ll be fine.

 ##

 “A couple days?” Curtis says that evening when Shiro explains it.

There’s a bouquet of flowers on the counter that Shiro brought home as a cheap buttering-up tactic. Curtis had taken one look at them and knew what Shiro was up to.

“Yeah, just to figure out what’s wrong with Keith.”

“Shouldn’t that be the job of a medical professional?”

“We tried, I told you his panel came back clean.”

Curtis makes a noise of derision. “Maybe there isn’t anything wrong with him. Maybe he’s just in denial about wanting to be with that Galra.”

Shiro is already shaking his head. “No, you’ve seen him, he’s really distressed by it.”

“Uh huh,” Curtis says it like he thinks differently, but thankfully doesn’t say so. Still the hint of it in the air riles Shiro up.

“I have to do this, I owe him my life.”

“Then why even ask if you’re going to do it anyway?” Curtis looks properly angry now.

Shiro takes a deep breath, but it fails to take the bite out of his words. “You were mad when I didn’t tell you, now you’re mad because I am?!”

Curtis turns his back on Shiro, going to the refrigerator. “Look, I don’t want to fight about this.”

“Kind of sounds like you do,” Shiro says bitterly.

Curtis comes back with two waters, and hands one to Shiro. He looks like he’s trying actively not to be angry, and that actually helps Shiro pull back from his own edge. “Look, I’m sorry for snipping at you. It just feels like Keith’s been getting a lot of your attention.”

It’s a fair criticism. “I’m sorry too,” Shiro says. “But I need to do this, and then we’ll be going on our honeymoon and it’ll be just you and me.”

Curtis rounds the counter and tentatively enters Shiro’s space. He folds his husband into his arms easily. “You promise?” Curtis says into his chest.

Shiro kisses his hair and holds him tight. “I promise. Just a few days and then next week the honeymoon.”

He can’t afford to think about what will happen if they can’t solve this before then, so Shiro doesn’t.

Curtis never explicitly gives him his blessing for spending a few days with Keith, but he kisses Shiro before leaving for work the next morning, and maybe that’s good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: a sparring match that, for once, Keith has no chance of winning.


	15. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the thing that spawned this whole fic. 
> 
> Tags for this chapter: facefucking/throatfucking, choking

Keith’s doing his best to avoid Trak, but the base is only so big and there’s a few places Keith can’t help but frequent. The gym is one of them.

This time he arrives after Keith and by the time he gets changed, Keith is mid-workout.

Trak takes a moment on the sidelines watching him. It’s late, too late for anyone else to be here. Trak has been coming every night this week in hopes of catching Keith.

He watches the paladin spar with one of the bots. It’s elegant— fleet of foot, but without sacrificing ferocity. Truly Keith is an opponent to be admired. Feared.

Except by Trak. On his knees Keith is just putty for Trak to mold. All of that fire and fury, his to wield.

He waits for Keith to finish and take a break, and then steps forward to catch his eye.

There’s a moments pause where Keith thinks about bolting. Trak can see it, can feel the animal instinct in the air.

But the black paladin isn’t one for running. He’s always been fight over flight.

It’s also too easy to play him. “Want to spar?” Trak asks.

“I should be getting back,” Keith is careful to keep distance between them and doesn’t look directly at Trak. He wishes he knew what Keith thought about their rendezvous. Clearly he didn’t yet suspect it was Trak’s fault, because there would be a lot more anger if he did.

“Oh come on, we can’t be friendly anymore?” Trak moves just a little closer and then starts going through his stretches, not looking directly at Keith.

“I think we’ve been too friendly.” Keith says almost under his breath.

Trak laughs. “Should I apologize for not turning you away? I confess I’m weak-hearted when it comes to you.”

He tilts his head to project shyness, uncertainty.

Keith meets his eyes, there’s a flush of red across his cheeks. He looks flattered, unsure. “It’s… fine,” he says.

Trak reaches up in a stretch, and it pulls his shirt up on his stomach. He pretends not to notice Keith’s eyes looking him over. “Then spar with me, I miss a challenge.” He walks closer, maintaining eye contact. “Unless what you actually mean is that you’ve gone soft.”

It’s a statement he knows the paladin won’t be able to resist. He couples his by starting to walk a circle around Keith, unconsciously tugging at those Galra instincts for fight and play.

He watches Keith rile up, sliding instantly back into his fight stance. “Soft?” He makes a noise of derision.

Keith doesn’t turn to follow Trak, so he shamelessly ogles the paladins ass while he circles him. In that skintight training suit it’s a vision, and Trak wishes he’d brought lube so he could bury himself in it. “I’d understand that,” he says, lowering his voice, “Some Galra just get into bureaucracy and let their training fall by the wayside. There’s no shame in retiring from field work.” His voice drips condescension.

Keith whips around at this to face him, a playful snarl on his face. “There something you want to say to me Trak?”

He can feel the tension in the air, and it lights up something in Trak he’s been missing. It’s true they haven’t sparred since before they dated, and he hadn’t known before this moment he was actually missing it.

But he feels his heart begin to pound, the scruff on the back of his neck stands up. He drops his ears and gives Keith a grin of all teeth. “Just wondering if you can still fight as well as you can fuck,” he says.

A second later, Keith rushes him.

Between Trak’s size and Keith’s speed, they’re pretty equally matched. Keith comes at him hard, trying to attack where he knows Trak is weak so he can win  quickly. He won’t outlast Trak, so he had to get him down as fast as he can.

But that’s what Trak is counting on.

So Trak evades the punches and kicks and keeps Keith at a distance until the paladins' strength is beginning to fade.

He’s worked with Keith long enough to know that the next strategy will involving Keith slipping in under his defenses for close combat. In an actual fight it comes with his blade, but Keith also has more than a handful of moves he can win with just using his body.

Trak taunts him and moves away, keeping them on equal footing until they’re sweaty and breathing hard. On the next rebound Keith shifts and he can see the moment the other man decides to switch strategies.

And Trak is ready for it.

Trak swings wild and leaves an opening for Keith. The paladin dips under his arms and then is inside his space, preparing to sweep his legs out from beneath him.

Trak’s prepared to fall and roll, but then Keith hesitates. He loses the speed advantage and Trak grabs for him.

It’s a near miss as Keith shakes it off, bouncing back out of his space.

It would be a fluke or a symptom of exhaustion on anyone else. But as Keith comes around his left for another attack, Trak knows what it is.

He just expected to have to fight Keith down on the mat first.

It’s easier than that though. All of a sudden Keith’s style starts losing finesse, losing that extra speed he’s famous for. He curses the next time he misses, recognizing it in himself.

Keith isn’t prone to distraction, but there’s no better word for it. The moment he’s too close to Trak, he starts slipping.

It becomes infinitely more fun for Trak then. He exploits it, switching from defense to attack. Keith keeps out of his hands, but with every passing moment it’s increasingly sloppy. With every passing moment he’s breathing harder, unknowingly sucking down lungfuls of pheromones.

Trak looks and they’re both more than a little hard in their suits.

He decides he’s had enough sparring, he wants his just reward.

The next time Keith tries to attack, he meets him bodily and they both go down rolling in a tangle of limbs.

Keith tries to pin him down but he just doesn’t have the coordination or strength at this point. Trak flips them easily, sitting half his weight on Keith’s chest and then pinning his arms up over his head.

Keith pants below him and tries to use his legs, but doesn’t manage the leverage. Trak adjusts his feet to lock over Keith’s thighs to hold him down. “Damn you,” Keith grunts.

“Gotcha,” Trak says. He’s breathing hard too, but it’s not all out of exertion. He’s straining in his pants now, not at all deterred by the position. Here his hips are just above Keith’s face.

“Let— ah—“ Keith makes a growly sound, pushing up with his arms and legs, but it’s a lost cause. Trak is much heavier than him.

“What?” Trak plays coy and tilts his hips down fractionally.

Keith’s eyes move from his face to his crotch. The last of the fight leaves him and he whines instead of answering. His eyes are blown out.

A second later there’s a hot mouth leaning up to trace Trak’s length through the fabric.

In response, Trak pushes his hips down groaning at the sensation. “Fuck, yeah.”

Keith begins to suck at the fabric, trying to get at the smell his brain's been taught to crave. Trak tilts his head to watch.

The paladin can’t move, held down like he is, but that only makes him work harder. He mouths sloppily at the shape of Trak’s erection and then whines again when he can’t get any further.

“You want something?”

Trak transfers both wrists to one of his hands, so he can have a free one. There probably isn’t any risk of Keith escaping now, but he still loves the image of Keith’s slender little body spread out beneath him, powerless.

With his free hand he palms himself through his pants, getting in between Keith and his goal, and earning a sound of derision.

“You’re so cute to tease,” he says and then slips two of those fingers into Keith’s mouth.

Keith’s excitement is palpable and he sucks hard at them before his brain realizes that’s not what he wants. Violet eyes flutter open and find Trak’s. They’re watery and pleading for something more than fingers.

“Don’t worry,” he presses the pads of his fingers against the flat of Keith’s tongue, tries to keep his claws out of the way as he maps the mans mouth. “Just let me, then I’ll give you what you want.”

And Keith does, whether it’s because he understands the words or because he sees no other choice, it’s impossible to tell. It doesn’t really matter to Trak.

So he teases both of them for a minute before watching his fingers plunge into that wet heat becomes too much for him. As he reaches for the waistband of his pants to free his cock, Keith groans and wriggles a little in pleasure.

“I’ve got you,” Trak says, pulling his heavy cock out. The tip is already sticky with precome. “Open up babe.”

But he doesn’t need to be told. Already Keith’s mouth is parted as he reaches up for his fix.

Trak tilts his hips back just far enough to keep it out of reach. There’s a bead of clear liquid gathering at the head and—

Carefully he milks it out, jerking himself slow, eyes glued on Keith’s face.

Those pink lips are parted, tongue eager and reaching. Keith whines and strains against Trak, but he holds the tip steady as the bead of precome starts to drip.

He’ll never forget the image. Keith below him wordlessly pleading as his cock literally drips into his mouth.

Trak lasts only as long as Keith moaning from getting the taste on his tongue. Then Trak has to have him, he can’t hold off any longer.

He tilts his hips all the way down, sliding his cock home.

It goes all the way into Keith’s throat and starts to mushroom.

There’s no doubt that Keith would do a good job blowing him, likely wants to do a good job, but that’s not what Trak needs right now. He’s still buzzing from the chase, from his own cleverness at getting Keith down where he belongs.

So he takes a fistful of Keith’s hair and uses it to steady himself as he fucks into his mouth. He uses Keith harder than he has before, listening to him gag and try to breathe beneath him.

Trak’s got him trapped between his cock and the mat, and as he slams his cock in he knows he’s not going to stop. Nothing could make him stop with how good it feels.

“Take it,” he hisses as he pounds the fat head of his cock into Keith’s throat. “This is what you wanted.”

The sound is filthy, wet, and it urges him faster. He watches Keith’s mouth overflow with saliva, frothing with the friction. His cock looks obscenely large thrusting in and out, bulging Keith’s mouth and throat as he tries to take him.

Trak growls and feels a wild, feral energy climbing up his neck. Keith is _his_ and this is where he should always be: pressed beneath Trak, a warm and tight hole milking his cock.

The captain is only fooling himself if he thinks he can ever keep Keith. “You’re too much of a slut,” Trak says, watching himself pump in and out over those reddened lips. “He could never keep you. Just one whiff and you were panting for it like a bitch in heat.”

He’s getting close now, the peak approaching thick and heavy in his veins. Keith’s crying, but he looks content, like he’s exactly where he wants to be.

“I’m gonna come,” Trak says, thrusting his fattened head across Keith’s tongue, letting himself stretch these last few pleasurable moments.

Keith makes some sound in the back of his throat.

“Yeah,” Trak gasps and pushes in hard. “You want to be ruined,” and the thought of that is what makes him come.

He doesn’t slow much, using Keith’s mouth brutally and slopping the come all over as he continues to fuck through his orgasm.

Keith gurgles and coughs and chokes, and it’s only as he’s coming down that Trak thinks to move, to pull Keith into lying on their sides so he doesn’t actually choke too badly on all the fluid.

He lies there gasping in the aftershocks, enjoying Keith lapping up what he can. It’s gentle and perverse. When he looks down Keith’s an absolute mess, his lips badly swollen.

Still he’s dedicated to getting every lick of come.

Trak rests there until his knot goes down and then pulls out.

Keith makes a noise of protest and tries to follow, but he’s too doped up. He falls back to lying on his back on the mat.

Trak gets up and tucks himself back into his pants. When he looks down Keith is half asleep and looking well used. There’s come and saliva smeared across most of his face. Trak sighs, satisfied, and leaves the gym.

On his way out through the changing room, he runs into the captain.

There won’t be enough time for Keith to recover, so if the captain goes into the gym now he’s going to see the evidence.

Trak grins and the captain glares back. Neither of them say anything. 

Trak skips the shower and leaves for his own apartment. He desperately wishes he could see the look on that mans face when he enters the gym and sees Keith.

Trak knows he’s playing this one too close to the chest. He’s never fucked anyone else he worked with without protection. He’s also never messed with someone like the captain. It’s dangerous, so dangerous, but the rush is so good he can’t stop. Keith’s so sweet when he’s on his knees he doesn’t want to stop.

Maybe he’s just as addicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are ready for the next act because it's SO FUN. 
> 
> Next time: Shiro walks into the gym and sees--


	16. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: uhhh some dubcon touching from an out-of-his-head Keith. 
> 
> There will be no noncon between our mains.

Shiro waits until the Galra’s footsteps fade completely before trying to shake off the anger. He hadn’t expected to see him, and didn’t like getting caught off guard like that.

He soothes himself with the knowledge that starting tomorrow morning, he’s Keith’s literal bodyguard. That Galra won’t be able to so much as look at Keith without dealing with Shiro first.

_Good._

Shiro walks through the changing room having already come dressed, and into the gym.

He falters. There's a body lying in the center on one of the mats. He knows that dark hair, that slender build. His heart catches painfully in his chest as he rushes over.

“Keith! Keith!” Shiro falls to his knees beside the man, looking him over with no small amount of horror. His mouth is red and swollen, smeared in— Shiro can’t even think it. He’s in his workout gear, sweaty but unconscious. Shiro feels for his pulse with trembling fingers.

It’s there, steady. It’s the only thing that keeps Shiro from losing it completely.

Then Keith blinks his eyes open.

“Keith, fuck, are you okay— god— I’m going to kill him, I swear I’m—“ But Keith isn’t listening. His pupils are blown wide and his gaze is unfocused. The man doesn’t seem distressed at all as he licks his lips and smiles dreamily.

Then, strangest of all, Keith turns his head into Shiro’s palm and begins to nuzzle and purr.

“Keith?”

The man doesn’t say anything, but those fingers creep up Shiro’s thighs and pluck and pull at his clothing. The intent is clear, so Shiro lies down beside him on the mat.

Immediately Keith snuggles up to him, turning to tuck his face up against Shiro’s throat. He smells like sex and that Galra, and Shiro tries not to show his disgust at the wetness he can feel being smeared on him.

Against his skin he feels the rumbling purr.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice cracks and he wraps his arms around the younger man, holding him tight. This must be it, this must be what Keith’s been talking about. For all intents and purposes he’s just been assaulted, but he’s acting as though he’s drunk or high. As though he’s having a wonderful time.

Keith licks at him and Shiro tries not to jerk away. That Galra just left him here vulnerable and out of his head, Shiro needs to protect him. Needs to comfort him.

Needs to put his metal fist through a certain Galra’s intestines and pull them out.

It’s late and Curtis is expecting him after the workout, but Shiro doesn’t dare move. Keith’s got his fists tight to his shirt, mouthing sleepily as he purrs, and Shiro is exactly where he needs to be. He will stay here however long it takes.

He’s feel unaccountably shitty that he didn’t take Keith more seriously sooner. Seeing him now, like this, is a wake up call. There is something very wrong with him, and it leaves him nearly incapacitated. It leaves him at the whims of a Galra who doesn’t seem to care that Keith is unable to consent.

Even if Keith doesn’t see it that way, Shiro knows. He’s pegged that Blade from the beginning and he knows just by the way that he left Keith here that he’s part of the problem.

Even if he didn’t cause Keith’s… whatever this is, he’s still taking advantage of it. Taking advantage of _Keith_.

Shiro’s insides war between acidic rage and desolated sadness. He aches for Keith, for what he’s been going through alone.

And he’s going to fucking tear that Galra apart with his bare hands.

The back and forth makes him nauseous.

Eventually Keith begins to fuss, and Shiro notices the purring has gone away.

“Shiro?” The voice is gravel, barely a whisper. Because his throat is— _no._

Shiro allows the space between them so he can look at Keith. His eyes are clearer, it looks like him staring back this time. “Hey Keith, welcome back.”

“What—“ And then his hand comes up to his mouth and he winces, covers his face. “Oh god, oh fuck.” Keith's breathing starts to pick up, his words cracking either in strain or emotion.

“Hey, hey,” Shiro moves his hand to Keith’s shoulders, rubs them slow and firm. “Breathe, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Keith whispers to save his throat. “This is so far from okay—“ he gulps for air, still covering his face.

“It’s— I came in the found you on the floor. You were… out of it so I laid down with you. Nothings happened since I’ve been here.” Shiro says this calm and steady. He wants to reassure Keith that he’s safe with Shiro.

“But you saw me!” And then Keith does break, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

Shiro gathers him back up and holds him tight. “Just let it out,” he keeps his words low and presses them into Keith’s hair. “I saw you but it doesn’t mean anything. I still love you, I still think you’re amazing, but I am so, _so_ sorry I didn’t take this more seriously. I didn’t understand what you meant. But you were right. It wasn’t you, it was like I looked at you and you weren’t even in there.” He rubs Keith’s back soothingly. “But I’ve got you now and we are going to figure this out, okay?”

Keith doesn’t say anything else, but eventually the ragged breathing slows and the crying stops and then it’s just Keith, holding on just as tightly as Shiro is.

 ##

 Keith doesn’t want to talk any more that night, and with how brutalized his mouth looks Shiro doesn’t push it.

Though he does insist that Keith spend the night in his and Curtis’ apartment. He avoids saying it directly, but he doesn’t trust that the Galra won’t sneak in, or that Keith won’t have another episode.

Keith doesn’t protest, just lets himself be lead to their apartment.

When they get there Shiro leaves Keith by the door for a moment to go in and explain the situation to his husband. Curtis is in bed on his data pad looking deeply displeased. Shiro gives him a brief summary and is relieved to see that it clears away his husbands attitude.

“Thank you for telling me,” Curtis says, tugging him down for a kiss.

“I have to go settle him in on the couch,” Shiro says after giving him a peck.

Curtis waves him off with a small smile and then settles down into their bed.

It’s quick work to get the extra pillows and blankets to make up the couch. While he does that, Keith helps himself to the second bathroom and comes out much cleaner and wearing Shiro’s clothes.

“Thank you,” Keith whispers settling down into the bed. Shiro goes to the door and adjust the settings so it won’t let Keith out even if he has another fit and tries to leave.

“It’s no problem.”

There’s a moment of lingering then. Shiro wants to pat him or hug him, offer some kind of solace, but he doesn’t know what. Doesn’t know if it would be welcome.

“Well, goodnight. Don’t be afraid to wake me if you need anything.”

“I’ll be okay now,” Keith says, barely loud enough to hear. “But thank you.”

Shiro lowers the lights and then gives into the temptation on the walk back through the living room. There’s a noise of contentment from the bundle on the couch when Shiro rubs his hands once through the paladin's hair.

“Goodnight,” Shiro murmurs. He caries Keith's following sigh with him into the bedroom and under the sheets with his husband.

 ##

Most of the next day is unremarkable. Keith recovers, looking bright eyed and well-rested at breakfast. He doesn't want to talk about the night before.

Shiro kisses his husband before they part and it’s fine.

Better, because now Shiro doesn’t have to spend the day worrying how Keith is doing. They’re in all the same meetings, they do their paperwork in Shiro’s office, they co-monitor the training and do their rounds to Atlas and the Blades.

That Galra never shows.

When they’re finished the day, they stop by Shiro’s apartment so he can grab his bag of clothes for sleeping at Keith’s. Curtis isn’t home yet, but Shiro leaves a note for him, dotting it with hearts. So far Curtis has been okay with this, but Shiro is ever ready for it to all fall apart.

But there’s nothing he can do about that now. He leaves his worries in their apartment and follows Keith back to his.

There they have pizza and mess around watching dumb videos on the internet until it’s time for bed. Keith gives Shiro the permissions to adjust the door, and Shiro locks it to only his bio signature. Then he settles in to sleep on the couch.

He’s painfully aware they only have four days before Shiro has to be back in his old life, packing for his ski trip. He worries it won’t be enough time, that he’ll be abandoning Keith just when he needs him most.

It takes Shiro a long time to fall asleep that night.

So long that when a sound rouses him, he doesn’t feel like he’s slept a wink.

Still he comes awake and alert all at once, his brain remembering the mission. But there’s no danger, it’s only Keith in the kitchen.

“Keith?”

“Sorry,” Keith’s riffling through his cabinets. “Couldn’t sleep so I was just going to get a snack.”

The riffling feels especially loud in the low lighting. Shiro scratches at his stubble. “Ah.”

“I’m just really craving chocolate. Thought I still had some from Hunk but—“ Keith pulls out bags of chips and other food items, dropping them onto the floor carelessly. He seems agitated.

Shiro watches silently as Keith finishes his search and comes up empty. The paladin turns to walk to the door, then pauses.

“Hey could you unlock the door? I’ll just pop down to the cafeteria vending machine.”

Shiro sits up and reaches for his shirt. “Sure, let me just get dressed.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. Just unlock it, you don’t have to get up.”

But this is hitting all Shiro’s red flags. Now he looks Keith over with a critical eye. He does look under-slept, and a little wild. There’s a spot of sweat discoloring his sleep shirt.

“It’s no trouble, I am your assigned bodyguard,” Shiro tries for levity, but Keith only frowns.

“I can go get one candy bar by myself Shiro, I’m not a child.”

And that stings, but Shiro is also now more certain something is going on. “I know you aren’t.” He gets up and walks toward Keith.

The man is standing rigid at the door, not looking at Shiro. “Fine, whatever, open the door.”

Shiro’s never failed to give Keith anything, but as he reaches for the door scanner, his gut stops him.

“No.” He says, pulling his hand back.

“No?” Keith finally looks at him, and he’s pissed. His eyes dart back to the door. “Shiro open the door.”

“No, I think you should go back to bed.”

“What?” Keith snarls. “This is _my_ apartment. Open the _fucking door!”_

Keith’s turned completely to him, expression furious. Shiro holds up his hands, placating. “Keith, I think it’s happening right now.”

“What?” Keith’s breathing hard now, almost growling his words.

“Keith why do you want to go out?”

“Open it!” Keith starts to advance on him, his eyes flickering from Shiro’s hand and then the door scanner.

It’s painfully obvious what his thought process is, and Shiro adds this to his evidence bank. Keith would never be so ham-fisted, at least not these days. “No,” Shiro says, and braces himself for a scuffle.

Keith makes an animalistic noise and then is on him, trying to incapacitate him. Shiro is ready for it, knows all of Keith’s moves backwards and forwards. He blocks and parries, takes shots to his gut and forearms when he needs to.

But even though Keith is fighting in full spirit, it’s sloppier than usual. He misses several openings Shiro can’t cover, and then leaves himself completely vulnerable to attack.

It’s way too easy for Shiro to get him down on the floor. To plant himself heavy on Keith’s hips and pin his wrists to the carpet.

“Keith!”

The man beneath him snarls and wriggles, but Shiro has plenty of practice holding his position. When Keith unexpectedly tries to bite, Shiro leans back, shifting both wrists into his metal hand and placing his human one on Keith’s throat.

It’s not painful or choking, but he presses down just enough to keep Keith from chomping his nose.

“Keith!”

Shiro can see on his face that he’s not home. His pupils are dilated and his eyes are hollow. There’s an uncoordinated madness to the way he’s growling and trying to get free. It reminds Shiro of an animal in a trap.

Which leads him to the next problem— he can’t just keep this up all night, or for however long this episode lasts. Eventually he’ll get tired and Keith will escape.

And over his dead body is he letting Keith find that Galra.

Shiro is thinking this over, trying to decide on the ethics of using a tie to restrain Keith, when a new problem arises.

Keith’s snarling has quieted into something much worse to his ears, _whining_. It comes coupled with Keith switching from jerky struggles into a writhing, rhythmic movement.

Shiro does everything in his power not to think the word _grinding_ , but that’s what it is. All of a sudden Keith beneath him is panting and thrusting and— Shiro almost tears himself away.

But he’s afraid if he does it’ll turn back into a fight. He’s not sure this is better.

Keith whines and then there’s a hard heat pressing against Shiro’s hips. Shiro’s grip slips a little. Keith under his hands is literally burning up, sweating through his sleep clothes.

Shiro moves his human hand up to take Keith’s temperature.

“You’ve got a fever,” Shiro says.

Keith whines again and then when Shiro goes to remove his hand from his forehead, catches Shiro's fingers with his mouth.

Shiro cringes, bracing for those teeth to clamp down, to surely sheer him down to the bone. But no, no it’s _worse._

Keith sucks his fingers and moans. Bobs his head to swallow them right to the back of his throat like it’s the best thing he’s ever had.

Shiro forgets everything else and rips his hand away, pushes away from Keith, gasping for breath. This is bad, this is so fucking bad. His cock is hard in his pants and he doesn’t even have any mental space to think about that because—

Because then Keith is on top of him. He’s a mad thing grabbing at the band of Shiro’s pajamas, and Shiro isn’t quick enough to stop him. His pajamas come down, baring his hard cock.

Shiro’s only quick enough to grab a handful of Keith’s hair before that mouth touches him. With his free hand he bats away Keith’s hands.

And for one excruciating moment he’s holding Keith’s just above his cock. Keith’s lips are parted and glistening, eager to have him. Just two inches separate the head of his cock and the plush heat of Keith’s mouth. It would be so easy just to push it in, to let Keith swallow him down. He aches to, and Keith clearly wants it.

The image is going to haunt Shiro the rest of his life.

He shoves Keith away and scrambles to his feet, pulling his pajamas back up. His cock presses an awkward tent against the front.

He can see Keith is hard still. Is whining at Shiro from the floor, crawling over on his knees—

Shiro stumbles back, “Keith! Keith stop!” He might as well be talking to the wall.

Restraints it is.

Shiro dips into Keith’s room in search of a tie or something rope-like. He only finds a robe, likely gifted from Lance. He strips the belt off it just as Keith reaches him again.

The uncoordination has gotten worse, and Shiro is grateful as he struggles to subdue Keith again. The paladin gets a hand on his cock, but Shiro ignores it and wrestles his wrists together and then ties them securely.

Finally, Keith is immobilized.

Now Shiro just has a whining, out-of-his-mind best friend, and his inappropriately hard cock to deal with. He has no idea what to do.

Keith gave him prior consent to take him to medical if he needed to, but Shiro still isn’t sure if that’s what he wants to do. He doesn’t know if this will just pass if he waits, and he’d rather do that and then ask Keith when he’s coherent what he wants to do.

Begrudgingly he can see why Keith and the Galra keep sleeping together. Keith is difficult to deter like this.

Not that it at all excuses the clear consent issues. Keith is _obviously_ out of his mind.

That’s an issue for another time. Head in the game, Shiro.

 ##

They sit there a long time while Shiro goes through every possible solution. He tries talking to Keith, getting him food and water, and searching his symptoms on the internet. None of them provide any leads, but Shiro is beginning to become certain that Keith’s madness isn’t going to go away.

In fact he seems to be getting sicker.

When Keith devolves into shivering, Shiro decides its time for professionals.

He unties and lifts Keith carefully, but there’s little movement otherwise. Keith’s now too ill to attempt fighting or seduction.

Shiro doesn’t understand what’s going on. By all accounts Keith’s been coming out of these states fine, so why isn’t he now?

Shiro doesn’t want to make it about that Galra but his mind keeps sticking on it. Is he giving Keith some sort of antidote? Is his body responding to some Galra thing so he doesn’t continue to get sicker?

These are questions for a medical professional or a Galra. Shiro bends to put his hand on the scanner and open the door. He heads for the medical bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you're honorable and in denial and still a gay disaster.
> 
> Next time: Obviously Trak can't let his plaything stay in the hospital.


	17. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: somnophilia

 Nothing is different this morning except that Trak counted the Vargas and knows that Keith is just about at thirty-six. The fact that Keith didn’t come crawling into his bed in the middle of the night tells him there was external intervention.

During a break Trak peeks into a meeting the captain should be in and sees his seat empty. He does some further scouting but neither of them are anywhere to be found.

The medical bay is the obvious choice. There’s no where else the captain would have taken him if Keith started having withdrawal symptoms.

Getting access to Keith there will be no easy matter. Likely the captain will have him under lock and key.

But Trak isn’t giving up his prize so easily. He’s been well trained in strategy and stealth, and as dedicated as the captain is, he can’t watch Keith every dobash.

He takes his lunch break to plan his next move.

 ##

It comes down to two options. Trak has to get the captain out of the room via emotional or logistical obligation. The man is unlikely to abandon his post for food or sleep, so it has to be something more pressing.

The husband or the job.

Trak weighs both carefully. He needs to obfuscate his plan so to make sure few fingers point back to him. It's that same delicate balance again, and Trak thrills at the opportunity to pull another over on the captain.

He calls the medical bay when he finishes lunch to confirm Keith is there and get his room number. The Blades are a tightly knit community, so the staff don't even think twice about giving him the information. 

Trak thinks about what to say to the husband during his next meeting, practically vibrating in his anticipation.

 ##

He finds the husband after his workday is finished. The man is dull and predictable, so it's easy to probe for what he knows and doesn’t know. It’s showing his hand a little, but Trak assumes the captain has been keeping him largely in the dark. That the husband doesn't have any reason to suspect he's being manipulated.

Trak manufactures the run in and some small talk, then a confession. When the husband tells him sternly that the captain and Keith are not together, he fakes embarrassment. Tells the husband in fumbling earnestness, _I’m sorry, I had just heard he was with the captain now, I thought maybe you’d be a sympathetic ear— I— I feel so embarrassed now. They weren’t at any of their meetings today and I just thought, well this is it, you never stood a chance Trak, they’ve run off together. But that’ll show me for listening to rumors._

The husband’s standoffish had immediately shifted course. A dark anger had stolen over his face.

Rumors, indeed.

When Trak excuses himself, he lingers only long enough to see the husband whip out his phone.

He doesn’t care to listen to the conversation, instead he heads to the medic bay building so he will know if the captain gives up his post. He hopes it's enough.

It takes less time than he predicted. Where he’s seated across the courtyard he sees the captain come out the door of the building and look around. A moment later his husband is storming toward him. An argument ensues.

That leaves the main entrance blocked, but there’s one around the side for emergency vehicles, so Trak helps himself.

He’s quick to find Keith’s room, smiling and waving at the nursing staff he passes. He’s wearing the appropriate face, concerned but unthreatening, so no one gives him a second look. Just a Blade going to visit another Blade.

There’s no lock on Keith’s room, but it’s private and the nurses saw him go in, so he likely has at least a few minutes alone with Keith. That’s all he needs anyway.

Just enough to get Keith on the path to recovery so he will check himself out.

He walks to the bed, keeping his back to the door. It’ll give him a few seconds to tidy up should anyone come in.

Keith is hooked up to a few machines, mostly for monitoring. Trak doesn’t bother with any of that. He just reaches for Keith, turning his head toward Trak.

The man is mostly out of it, eyes barely cracked, but when Trak puts a thumb to his mouth he tries to suck on it.

“Good kit,” he says, and then unzips to pull his cock out.

Keith won’t be able to do him proper service this time, but Trak comforts himself with the image before him. Keith so weak in withdrawal he can’t do anything, at Trak’s mercy and charity. Thankfully Trak is a benevolent keeper.

He puts the tip of his cock on Keith’s lips and starts to stroke himself.

It’s too hard and too fast, but time is of the essence. He focuses on the leaking head just dipping into that hot mouth. Pink lips a little chapped but still perfect.

He can’t wait for their next time. To have Keith the way he likes him, pressed nose to Trak’s abdomen. Sucking him eagerly, mouth filling with Trak's spend... and then Trak falling asleep with that warmth wrapped around him, ready for use whenever he wakes. _Fuck._

Already he’s close. As much as Keith’s addicted to this, so is Trak. Seeing that mouth gets him hard every time. 

“Almost there babe,” he jerks himself against those lips, smearing precome. “I know you need it, I’ve got you. Gonna swallow it all, hm?”

Keith has awakened a little beneath him. Still too out of his head to do anything but suckle, and Trak’s grateful. Likely Keith is too ill to remember this encounter, which is for the better if he’s going to cover his tracks.

“Fuck,” Trak hisses when there’s a small, needy sound from Keith. Keith needs him, needs this. He's so ill because he hasn't gotten it, but Trak is here now, is going to give his kit what needs. He jerks himself hard, his orgasm right there just watching his cockhead dare to press in a little deeper. He wants to but he can't, he's just here to give Keith his--

His orgasm hits him hard.

Without his cock in Keith’s mouth it’s a bit messy, but Trak aims the best he can while the pleasure pulses through his veins. Keith manages to swallow over and over, and then when Trak’s finishes marking him up he helps the boy by scooping the mess from his face and putting it in his mouth.

There’s too much risk to leave evidence, as much as he’d like the captain to know he got to Keith right under his nose. That's a better reveal for later.

Trak works quickly, zipping himself up and then tilting Keith’s head back the way it was. The paladin looks almost as he did before, if you ignore the wet sheen on his lips.

There’s no time for lingering, as much as he aches to. Trak makes sure his cock is tucked well enough in his pants not to cause any looks, and then slips from the room.

When he goes out the side door of the medic bay he doesn’t bother to see if the captain is still out front. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

What matters is what he’s going to do going forward about this situation. He can’t keep bailing Keith out of the hospital, and while it’s fun to outsmart the captain, it’s not a long-term solution.

And Trak wants to keep the black paladin. Wants him as his personal fucktoy, a beauty with a tight ass to warm his bed and taunt the captain with. But he's the black paladin, so Trak is sure extraction won't be an easy feat.

Later, fist wrapped around his cock, he imagines the rest of their life together. He has to have it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knock knock, the plot is coming in hard the next few chapters.
> 
> Next time: Keith is better but Shiro is worse.


	18. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags.

Curtis has a right to be upset, but Shiro is too tired and stressed to deal with it. It’s a nasty argument out front of the medic building, drawing stares and whispers even as Shiro attempts to keep his voice down. He hates every second of it, but he also has to stand there and take it.

He owes Curtis that much.

“It’s just feels like I’m never your first or even second thought!”

“I’m sorry!” Shiro hisses. “What do you want me to say? Keith was—“

“Keith is always _something_! Is that what you want? Some drama?” Curtis waves his arms around to the courtyard, to the bystanders. “Is that what it takes to keep your attention?!”

“No, come on Curtis this is extenuating circumstances.”

Curtis makes a sound of frustration, they’ve been at this over ten minutes and it’s becoming circular. “It’s like you can’t even hear me. I’m not fucking mad that you’re helping your best friend, that you took him to the hospital when he needed it. I’m fucking mad that I had to hear about it from someone _else.”_

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to call you when Keith was collapsing on the floor.”

The eye roll he gets in return could rival Keith’s. “Stop pretending you’re so damn thick-headed. What, you didn’t have a minute in the hours you’ve been here to call me? What were you doing ten minutes before I called?”

Honestly, he was drowsily perched over Keith’s bed rubbing the back of his hand and watching the monitors. He didn’t even have his phone; the nurse had come in and told him he had a call. But he can’t say any of that because Curtis is right. “I didn’t think about it.”

“And that,” Curtis lets out a long whoosh of breath, “is exactly what I’m trying to say.”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re always sorry.” And now Curtis is finally deflating, as if too tired to go around anymore. “I just want to feel like your husband, Shiro, not some clueless idiot in the break room.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Shiro wishes he could touch him, could overcome the space between them and heal it just by holding his husband tight.

But Curtis has his arms crossed, radiating untouchability. “Well I’m sorry for the spectacle, and now I’m going to go.”

“Should I come by later?” Shiro doesn’t want to leave Keith, but he feels like he has to offer.

“No,” Curtis sighs. “Stay with Keith, make sure he’s okay.” This is said gently, kindly. Curtis looks up at the medic building. “Let me know if you need anything.”

It’s so much more than Shiro deserves, but he’s grateful. “Okay.”

Curtis goes home and Shiro goes back to Keith’s bedside. He retakes his seat and presses his hand over Keith’s. He hopes the doctors have an answer for them soon.

##

 Shiro is awoken from his painful slump in the hospital chair by Keith poking him.

“Muh?”

“Shiro, why am I in the hospital?”

This kicks Shiro’s brain into full wakefulness. “Keith!” He drags himself up and then crushes Keith with a tight hug.

“Hey,” Keith squeezes out. “What’s going on?”

When Shiro pulls back he notes Keith’s bright eyes, his reversal into a fully-cognizant being. He looks better than Shiro feels.

He gives Keith a barebones rundown of what happened, trying to leave out as much of their… inappropriate conduct as possible.

Still Keith looks shamefaced when he finishes. “And the doctors said?”

Shiro shrugs. “Maybe an allergy or a drug, but all your bloodwork and tests came back normal.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Galra thing?”

Shiro shakes his head. “There’s a couple Galra on staff who said it isn’t anything they’ve seen before.”

Keith sits up, pulling off his heart monitor stickies. “This sucks.”

Shiro agrees and then watches the paladin begin to remove the rest of the wires. “What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like?” He throws his legs over the side of the bed.

“Keith no.”

“Keith yes,” Keith says. “We’ve established it's about every two days, that it comes and goes. If they don’t have any results for me then I’m not spending my good time in bed.”

“You’re sick.” Shiro stands to block the way.

“And you’re not my mom.” Keith gets to his feet.

“She’ll be here in three days,” Shiro warns.

Keith smirks. “Then in three days _she_ can tie me to a hospital bed.”

“Why are you like this?” Shiro groans. He doesn’t want it to be fond but it kind of is.

Keith, free of the wires and on two feet, waves at him. “Go get the discharge papers.”

Shiro blames his lack of wanting to argue on his exhaustion. He goes and gets the papers.

 ##

 They don’t go back to work, but they do make quick rounds to get what they can for working at home. At every juncture Keith denies being treated like an invalid and Shiro sighs tiredly.

By the time evening comes, Shiro has never been more ready to close his eyes.

But first he has a stilted phone call with his husband, catching him up. There’s two days left of his shadowing which he tells Curtis he will continue to do. Then they leave for a ski vacation.

The second he finishes the call he puts those thoughts away. Keith is already in his bedroom, so Shiro climbs into his bed on the couch. He’s asleep almost instantly.

Morning light and warm pleasure wakes him. He sighs into it, moving his hip sleepily. Fingers pluck at his boxers, drawing them down. He smells lilac and sweat, feels a calloused hand wrapping around his hard cock.

And then everything snaps to: he’s not in his bed or his apartment and that’s not Curtis, not a dream, there’s only one person who smells of lilac and—

Keith takes a knee and a shoving as Shiro flies up off the couch, then nearly trips since his boxers are pinning his thighs together.

Shiro’s woozy and breathing hard on his feet, quick to tug his underwear back up. His cock is absolutely throbbing, had been 100% on board with how Keith had started to stroke him—

_Fuck._

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck._

“What the fuck!” Shiro says for good measure.

Keith is still on the couch, gazing at him steadily. Rather, his eyes are glued on the tent of Shiro’s underwear.

The first groping Shiro sold to himself as Keith trying to delusionally butter him up to unlock the door, but now looking at Keith glassy-eyed but fixated on his _ahem_ , Shiro thinks maybe whatever is wrong with Keith has a sexual component.

The Galra at the hospital hadn’t seen it before, but they’ve also never seen a Galra-Human hybrid before. Maybe this is some kind of mating thing that’s messed with his brain chemistry. Something no one has ever seen before.

Or maybe he needs to ask someone with a little more expertise on the weirdness of the galaxy like Kolivan or Krolia. Anything but—

Keith’s gotten tired of waiting and is now slinking toward him like a predator. It’s an attractive image— _NO!_

The robe rope is on Keith’s floor from when he untied Keith before taking him to the hospital. Shiro darts in and grabs it and then tussles with Keith to subdue him.

He manages it by getting groped only two more times. He patently doesn’t think about it. On the floor, practically hog tied, Keith snarls at him.

“What am I going to do with you?” Shiro groans and pulls at his hair. His cock continues to remind him of its presence, flashing him images of Keith prowling toward him, lust and eagerness on his face.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

Shiro goes and takes a cold shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why I don't do multi-chapter fics : this monster is at 30k (?!?) and I still have all the sheith stuff coming. RIP me. 
> 
> Next time: Trak plays for keeps.


	19. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: degradation language, additional drugging, light painplay, bondage, smidge AFAB language, fantasies of breeding/feminization/mpreg (no actual mpreg in this story)

It’s unsurprising when he tries the door to Keith’s room that it no longer lets him in. Unsurprising, but also not a deterrent. He just has to think it through. Potentially Keith is not alone in his apartment, and without being keyed to the door any longer, Trak has no plausible deniability if he gets caught inside by anyone else.

Plus running into the captain at this stage might be… hazardous. If the man's not keen yet to the hospital situation, then he’s still likely to be mad about the gym one.

Trak turns on his heels to walk back down the corridor and ponder his options, when Keith's door is carved open. Trak turns back, on guard for an attack.

Keith nearly slams into him, wild-eyed and feral, dropping the blade he’s used to pry the door open. Trak snatches him up, eyeing the doorway before it closes. In the living room there are ribbons of rope on the floor, but otherwise it's empty.

“Just the man I was looking for,” Trak croons, tightening his arms around the paladin. This is a gift, a sign from the universe that Keith belongs to him. Why else would it deliver him right into Trak’s arms?

Keith squirms a little in the hold, and for a second Trak thinks it’s to get away. But then he feels slender fingers sliding down his stomach toward his belt.

“Ah, miss me kit?” Already his cock is responding, and in the corridor is not the place for it.

He snatches Keith’s hands and drags them back up, winds an arm around the paladin’s waist to start leading him away. Keith whines.

“I know sweetheart,” Trak mumbles as he steers them toward his apartment. “But we just have to get somewhere with some privacy.”

 ##

 Keith isn’t the most docile on the trip, but Trak uses every Galra trick he can think of and manages it. They get some looks, undoubtedly because Keith looks unwell, but no one says anything so that’s good enough.

It’s harder to get Keith to leave Trak’s apartment after he’s gathered everything he needs. Keith’s brain is fixated on the space, knows it’s been used before, and doesn’t understand why Trak is making them leave.

But this is the first place the captain will check if he notices Keith is unaccounted for. He doesn’t know _where_ the captain is right now, but he knows they can’t stay here.

Trak shoves his hand into his pants, gets the scent, and then lets Keith suck on his fingers for a second before they leave his apartment with his bags. He doesn’t have time to dose him, not until they get where they’re going, but maybe just the promise of it will help.

It does and it doesn’t. Trak gets them to the temporary Blades housing quick enough, but Keith is nearly all over him. It’s all he can do to shove Keith into one of the rooms and adjust the door locks to key only to him. Some people surely saw them, but hopefully no one that will feel the need to report to the captain.

The room they’re in is small and old, as this whole building is for temporary stays, but it’s secure enough. It won’t protect them if someone like Kolivan comes checking rooms, but if the captain goes that far then Trak’s already fucked.

He needs an exit strategy and he needs it now. He’s been playing around with one, has enough credits and favors to get far away from this rock, but it will mean giving up the Blades. And Trak likes his job.

Keith whines, pawing at his clothes before he’s even stepped away from the door panel. _Fuck,_ he likes Keith too.

Trak steps around his pet and goes to the bed. First things first, it’s been entirely too long since they’ve gotten to take their time. Trak is fairly certain Shiro won’t try the big guns for at least a few hours, so Trak is going to enjoy this. And then-- 

Keith lands beside him on the bed, and this time when the paladin tries to take his clothing off, Trak lets him.

 ##

 Trak spends the minimal amount of time prepping Keith’s ass, mostly because he wants the boy to feel it. He wants to wreck Keith.

His toys are all spread out on the bed beside him. He has Keith trussed up in ropes and immobile, facedown on his knees. One of the dildos is near his mouth and he’s trying to lick at it, to coax it the distance to his mouth so he can suck. It’s adorable.

The main attraction though is here. Is the dripping head of his cock just starting to breach that pink rim. Keith cries out as it pops in, much too large for how little stretching happened.

Trak pulls it back out just to watch it again. He could watch this forever, the squeeze on him is phenomenal.

He dips deeper slowly. Closes his eyes in turn to really feel it, to focus on how Keith clenches and shifts beneath him. He thinks about how if he spirits Keith away to the deepest, darkest regions of the space, he could actually send videos like this to the captain. Out of reach he could taunt that man to near madness and there’s nothing he could do about it.

He slides his cock all the way in and sighs. Keith's so tight on him. So hot and moldable. When Trak opens his eyes, Keith is making some leeway getting the dildo to his mouth. It’ll be fun when he does, Trak coated it with a little something special.

He doesn’t usually pair his own hormones with drugs, but he figures if they’re going to make an escape after this then he needs Keith a little more compliant. Needs him completely under his control.

And it’s just a party drug, something Trak had in his nightstand, so it shouldn’t do Keith any real harm.

He starts fucking Keith now, enjoying the full slide of his cock inside Keith. There's nothing else like it. Keith makes needy and frustrated sounds.

“What? Two cocks not enough for you?” Trak slides deep, shifting Keith just ever so closer to the dildo. The man can just get his lips to the tip and is mouthing at it. “Such a greedy little whore,” Trak’s begins to quicken his rhythm. “Did you throw yourself at the captain too? Strangers in the corridors? Someone’s been keeping you from me so I know you’ve been suffering, been needy.” He holds tight at those small hips and begins to thrust in hard.

Keith moans, arches for more.

“Yeah, but I’m here now,” Trak’s pace is coming brutal and he doesn’t try to stop himself. He deserves this. He watches that hole stretch, his cock nearly too large for it. It always looks like it won't fit, but somehow it does. “I’m here and you’re mine. From here on out you’ll be my perfect little cock slut.” He pops the head of his cock out just to watch it strain back in. His little cunt is reddening, it's gorgeous.

Finally Keith is close enough to get the dildo in his mouth and he sucks it like he hopes it’ll give him the hit he’s looking for. Trak watches greedily, his hips never slowing as he pounds into Keith. The lube makes the sound filthy. “You’ll come only on my cock, crave it," Trak pants, "think about nothing but when you can get your mouth on it.”

Trak has a vision of a future: he comes home from work and settles down on the couch, his pet crawls over between his legs and sucks him down, giving the perfect blowjob and then just stays there, warming his cock. He gets dinner and then relaxes until his cock begins to stiffen again, until he taps on the kit’s head and the boy stands and slides his ass down on him, begins to ride him like he was made for it, like it’s all he wants from life—

_Fuck._ Trak has to see that. He tilts back onto his behind, pulling Keith’s hips and the man upright on his lap. His cock stays seated, twitching from the fantasy.

“Ride me,” Trak demands. His voice is thick with arousal.

For a moment nothing happens, Keith’s still whining about the loss of the dildo in his mouth. So maybe he needs some more guidance, that’s fine. Trak is more than willing to mold him into his perfect little toy.

He lifts Keith’s hips and then drops him. The man shrieks.

“Ride me,” he says again.

The drug is hitting Keith now, he doesn’t seem to get the concept. Trak reaches around for the paladin's cock instead.

This sparks something, makes Keith shiver in his grip. Makes him move his hips up to chase the fist when Trak moves it. After that’s it’s easy to get him moving. To associate bouncing on Trak's lap with strokes to his own cock.

Trak guides him into a rhythm and then relaxes back to watch.

Keith is stunning as always. He fucks himself on Trak’s cock, crying out and half out of his mind. His hair has come almost entirely out of his braid and between it and the curve of his hips, Keith strikes a feminine image. It drives Trak crazy. Makes the domestic image in his head more real. If only he could breed Keith, keep him gravid, full of him. Dress him up in little dresses just so he could come home and sneak his claws under them, bend his boy over the countertops and fuck him hard.

He continues to tease at the paladins cockhead gently, just enough to keep him riled up, to keep him moving exquisitely on Trak’s cock. It’s amazing, it’s just like the fantasy in his head. His cock appearing and disappearing into that hole.

The head starts to mushroom then and it doesn’t deter Keith, only makes his cries louder. Now he’s a vice around Trak, but taking him better than anyone ever has. He moves like a wave, a force that won't be stopped even as his cock thickens to plug him.

Trak’s not sure which drug it is that has Keith so wild, so hot, but he never wants to stop.

And then Keith is making adorable little _ah_ noises and dropping down hard on Trak’s cock and he can only think, _fuck is he about to come_?

A second later the clenching, pulsing, writhing creature answers that question for him. Trak wastes no time in taking those hips and pummeling his cock in once, and twice, and _so fucking hot and tight and deep and—_

His orgasm is completely white, pleasure so thick he can’t breathe through it. He moves the hips on him just as he likes it, fucks pulse after pulse of come into that tight space and feels the wetness of it. The awe of it. Keith fluttering around him because he wants every drop Trak has to give.

Sometime later he lies in the bed breathing, half his personhood drained away. Slowly he recognizes the weight on his chest is Keith. He’s practically passed out.

It’s difficult to rate orgasms, but Trak thinks that one may have topped his list.

The thought makes him laugh at the ceiling of the room.

How could he ever pick the Blades over Keith?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went hard, but the next one goes harder.
> 
> Next time: where the /fuck/ is Keith?!


	20. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: violence

 Shiro spends two hours checking every place he can think of, including tearing down Trak’s door, before he comes to a dead end. His anxiety is near choking him, he’s frantic with worry that Keith is just _gone._

Keith will likely hate him for it, but Shiro has no choice.

He goes to Kolivan.

“And you think Trak’s done something to him?” Kolivan looks thoughtful after Shiro’s stormed into his office and demanded his ear.

“I know it,” Shiro says.

Kolivan looks at him and then reaches for his communicator. “Krolia,” he says after a moment of typing, “Black graden level three.” Then he turns to his computer and begins typing.

“What was that?”

Kolivan turns the monitor so Shiro can see. “Haling her to see if she’s in range. Look,” he points at a live feed of the ship hanger. “That’s Trak’s ship, so he hasn’t left, at least not with his own ship. Logs don’t have any ships leaving in the last few hours either.”

The relief is enough to get one breath of air.

“Now,” Kolivan’s face turns more stern. “Tell me more about this illness, why do you think it’s Trak?”

He’s one of Kolivan’s men, so Shiro glossed the worst details on the first run through. He’s afraid Kolivan won’t believe him about his suspicions.

But Kolivan seems to pick up on this. “I screen my men,” he says after a moment, “but no system is perfect. Keith trusts you more than anyone else, so I trust you when it comes to his well-being. If you say Trak is hurting one of ours, then I want to understand so that we may find him and stop it.”

Behind the worry and anxiety Shiro can feel his bitter anger. The fury for vengeance, the same sickness he felt in the ring when he was the Champion, conquering every foe they threw at him.

Back then he didn’t get to use the power and rage for anything good, and he aches to do it now. To find that piece of shit and grind his smug toothy smile into the ground.

So he hopes that Keith can forgive him for what he’s about to do.

He tells Kolivan all of it.

 ##

 Kolivan doesn’t have any more insight, but he does take Shiro’s words seriously. Before they’re even finished discussing it he’s banned all takeoffs on the Blades side of the base. Shiro sends a message to Admiral Holt asking the same and supplying as little information as possible about the situation.

Sam is quick to message back that he’s put in the order, but will need more information should the ban last longer than four hours.

“I know we want to keep this under the radar,” Kolivan says when that’s finished, “but unless you have any ideas on where they’ve gone, it may be best to start with the security feeds.”

Shiro hates that he’s right.

They get the security supervisor to help them search through the feeds with minimal explanation. There’s no recording on hallways with living quarters, so they have to guess which direction they went from Keith’s room and start looking there. It’s annoying, but they finally spot Keith with Trak on camera crossing from the building Keith lives in to the one where Trak’s apartment is. Keith is barely moving under his own weight, Trak’s huge frame wrapped around him and shuffling him forward quickly.

 Then it’s another blind spot.

They forward and rewind through the tapes until they find them coming back out the back of the second building ten minutes later.

This time Keith is all over him, and the Galra is carrying what appears to be luggage. It’s difficult to watch, but Shiro keeps his eyes on the screen instead of looking at the other two men.

On the camera they round the gym, some of the classrooms, and a bathroom. The supervisor switches cameras and winds through the security feeds each time to track them.

It’s painful and slow work. Shiro can feel himself gritting his teeth watching Trak take Keith toward some unknown destination.

Then they walk through an older part of the grounds and out of frame.

“There’s no cameras in that section,” the supervisor says.

“What? Why?” Shiro growls.

The man shrugs. “There’s just an old training area there. The Garrison is supposed to be tearing it down soon and we are set to install cameras then.”

“Fucking great,” Shiro says.

“Can you search the next set, see if you can pick them up again?” Kolivan says.

The man tries, but after another half an hour flipping through footage Shiro is nearly at the end of his rope. He needs to find Keith _now._

“Let us go search the area by hand,” Kolivan has a heavy hand on Shiro’s shoulder, and Shiro notices he’s actively clenching and unclenching his metal fist. “You’ll let us know if you find anything on the feeds?”

The man looks nervous but nods readily, they leave.

 ##

 They split up at the old training area to cover more areas. Most of the doors are locked, but Shiro has enough clearance to check them. They’re are empty classrooms or storage rooms. None of them have Keith.

Then they move to the edges of the Garrison complex where the Blades section is. “Let me check the housing doc,” Kolivan says before they start on that hallway. “Wouldn’t want to burst in on any of our guests.”

Shiro couldn’t give a shit, but he grunts and tries to wait the few minutes that takes.

When Kolivan gets the numbers of the occupied rooms he sends a copy to Shiro’s communicator. They start on opposite hallways and work their way down using Kolivan’s override access and skipping the rooms that have been long been rented out.

Shiro gets a hail from Kolivan halfway through and rushes to meet him.  There’s a door propped open where Kolivan is waiting, and for a second Shiro’s hopes are in his throat.

But no, it’s an empty room with rumpled bedding. “Someone was here and they’re not on the logs,” Kolivan states. “It’s not definite, but—“

Shiro walks into the room and over to the bed. He doesn’t want to, but he has to know. If they were here then that’s a important lead. He moves the sheets around.

There’s dried fluids, a strand of black hair.

He’s going to _fucking murder_ that Galra.

“They were here.”

Kolivan tactfully stays by the door. “Are you certain?”

“There’s…” Shiro starts but can’t finish the sentence.

“Ah,” Kolivan says. “Let me go see if I can pull the time stamps for door access.”

He does and leaves Shiro, which is fine because Shiro needs a minute. After Kolivan’s footsteps disappear, Shiro drags himself out into the hall. He tries to banish the awful, viscous thoughts. He can’t give into the emotion right now, he has to stay focused. He has to find Keith.

Two minutes later Kolivan messages him the time stamp data. The door was accessed almost three hours ago and then accessed again about an hour ago. They’re close.

Shiro tries to think. He messages Kolivan back about anything on the feeds. They’re checking.

Shiro walks down the hall and sees where each exit comes out. They’re near the edge of the Garrison here. Would the Galra have fled into the desert? They’d still be picked up on the perimeter feeds.

Would he try for his ship instead? He wouldn’t know all outbound flights have been grounded.

“Two hours ago he had outbound messages to an unknown number,” Kolivan reappears, booking it to the end of the hall, toward the edge of the Garrison. “They’re encrypted, but the techs think he was contacting someone outside the base because we don’t have the number on file.”

Shiro’s brain is working overtime as they rush out the door into the sunshine.

“And the camera on this side has been cloned.” Shiro looks blindly around and they both spot the camera posted on the top of the building, pointed toward the perimeter fence.

The perimeter fence that, on the bottom tucked just behind some shrubbery, has been slashed to bits to create an opening.

Shiro doesn’t hesitate, he runs through it.

 ##

 It’s desert in every direction, but Shiro doesn’t stop. Kolivan is hot on his tail yelling into his communicator. He’s asking for transport to their location and monitoring of external flights.

There’s nothing but rocks and sand but they have to be out here somewhere, they have to be. At every rock and ridge Shiro hopes he’ll spot them or a ship.

Then Kolivan gets a return message from Krolia. He waves Shiro on, pausing to take the call.

So Shiro goes, lungs heaving and sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He hikes up another ridge and then—

And then at a great distance he sees a tiny ship flying in low across the desert plane. Flying in under the radars. Heading dead toward a set of rocks just ahead and to his right.

Shiro books it toward the rocks, rounding the long way so the ship won’t spot him. His lungs are aching, his thighs burning from all the climbing but he doesn’t slow a tic.

When he reaches the edge he can hear someone speaking low. Shiro peeks out to see.

It’s the Galra, crouched down in the shade of the rocks on his communicator. His bags are there beside him and Keith is slumped over them, his hair a tangled mess. He appears unconscious.

Everything stops for one crystalline moment.

Then the sound of the engine is getting closer and Shiro has to _move._

He doesn’t see any immediate weapon, so he sprints directly at the Galra. The rocks underfoot give him away and the Blade turns quick to face him. He pockets the communicator and grins.

“Come for a quickie?” The Galra says just as Shiro reaches him, ducking a fist meant to shatter his nose.

“Come to end this,” Shiro growls.

As they start Shiro realizes with some disgust that they’re evenly matched in strength. The Galra is also able to slide around every swipe of Shiro’s metal arm thanks to his Blades training. It’s frustrating but Shiro doesn’t let it deter him. He slings fists and evades return shots. Sand goes whipping up in every direction as they step around each other, as they land subpar blows.

“Such a temper,” the Galra taunts. “His ass is great, I’ll give you that captain—“ Shiro almost gets the man by the throat, and the Galra has to dart back quickly to regroup. “But aren’t you already mated?”

“It’s not about that.” Shiro hisses, charging at him. They trade blows again, but they’re both strong enough to take a lot of damage. Shiro wishes he still had his bayard.

“Ah, wanna have your cake and eat it too?” The Galra laughs and gets an off center punch to the gut for it. He shakes it off too quick for Shiro to press the advantage.

The Galra backs up, his eyes going to just over Shiro’s shoulder where the sound of the engine is almost upon them. “It’s too bad then, because I’m taking this one with me.”

And now Shiro realizes his mistake, the Galra has wound them round and round in the dirt and now the man is standing in front of Keith. The ship with potential weapons is coming up behind Shiro, boxing him in.

It’s a bad situation, it’s so bad. He doesn’t know where Kolivan or his backup is, and he doesn’t have anything other than his arm as a weapon. He could call Kolivan, but those are precious seconds.

Shiro does have one advantage on the Galra.

He digs his feet into the soft sand, faces the Galra, and launches himself forward.

The man doesn’t expect it and tries to evade but then seems to remember why he was stationed there in the first place. The momentum and the hesitation mean that Shiro is able to grab the Blade and take him over.

They hit the rocks and ground hard in a scuffle. Shiro grabs at anything he can and throws civility out the window. Half feral, he tears at the purple ears, gets an elbow into his stomach and almost knees the Galra in the crotch before they roll. They tumble and snarl at each other across the dirt. There’s rocks digging into Shiro’s back but he barely noticed, he digs his nails into the mans forearm and tears.

The Galra curses him and tugs a clump of Shiro’s hair out.

He takes it and holds his anger close, his determination closer. This Galra may want Keith, may love him even in his own sick way, but he loves Keith like an object, a possession, a pretty thing he can do whatever he wants with. But Shiro—

Shiro loves Keith as the best man he’s ever met. He’s the light at the end of a horrific Galran war, the fury of a good spar session, the freedom of hoverbike racing through the desert. He’s a leader and a son and a friend and just everything, absolutely everything to Shiro.

And that will be his edge. Because you can’t love a possession like you can love a person.

This Galra can fight to exhaustion, but Shiro will fight to the death. He’s been there and come back just because Keith willed it so.

Now he’s here to return the favor.

He gets teeth into the Galra’s arm and bites for all he’s worth. He feels his nose break when the man hits him to shake him loose. Shiro returns the gesture and misses his nose but hits him in the eye.

The Galra shoves him off in screaming pain and scrambles to put distance between them. Shiro spits the blood that’s filling his mouth, smearing it out of his eyes.

The ship is to them now, wafting up sand as it lands. Shiro throws an arm over his eyes so he won’t be blinded.

Then he sees the movement, the Galra making a last ditch effort to grab Keith. Shiro gets up onto his feet and his whole body is radiating pain. He slams sideways into the other man just as he goes to lift Keith’s dead weight.

“Trak! Trak! They’re coming!” An unfamiliar voice is yelling from the opening belly of the ship.

Trak looks at the pilot and then at Shiro standing in front of a still-unconscious Keith. The Galra’s face is just dripping blood, he's got just one usable eye. There are several other wounds Shiro doesn’t remember making.

“I will kill you,” Shiro says, planted in front of Keith. His voice doesn’t even sound like his own, monotone and cold.

Trak bares his teeth. “This is not over captain,” he says, stepping back toward the ship. “I’ll have my prize.”

“He’s not yours.” Shiro says.

“I’ve had him more ways than you ever will.” And now the smile is back, bloodied as it is. “So tell him when he wakes that I’ll be back for him.”

With that the Galra turns and runs for the ship that’s already starting up again. Now Shiro can hear other engines at a distance.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about any of it now that the threat has gone. Shiro turns and drops to his knees, scooping Keith up out of the sand.

“Keith,” his hands are bloody but he tries to wipe away the hair and sand to check Keith’s face. “Keith, baby, I’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” He feels for the heartbeat and it’s strong even if Keith is all dead weight.

He cradles the man in his lap and continues to babble nonsense, listening to the engines get closer and closer. He tells Keith it’s going to be okay, but he isn’t sure he believes it.

He presses his forehead to Keith’s and tries to pretend he’s not so afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH! I know we've all been waiting I hope I did you some justice!!!  
> There will only be 1 more Trak chapter, and it's not coming next. It'll be later *rubs hands together secretively*
> 
> Next time: Krolia is here and she's N O T H A P P Y.


	21. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags

Krolia gets to Earth with unprecedented speed, barreling into the hospital less than twelve hours later.

“Where is he?!” Shiro is slumped over at Keith’s bedside but jerks awake at Krolia's shouting from the hallway.

A second later the door whips open, behind her is Kolivan and another Blade guard looking guilty. Shiro stumbles up out of his chair with just enough time to move out of her way.

“Keith, sweetheart,” she croons, smoothing her hands over his bangs. Shiro takes the opportunity to excuse himself for the bathroom, confident that not even death itself could snatch Keith up while Krolia is on duty.

When he returns it’s to Kolivan's side in the hallway.

“Any news?”

Kolivan shakes his head. They tracked the ship, but only to find it had been stolen and then abandoned on the other side of the desert. Trak and the pilot are nowhere to be found. “You should rest.”

Shiro wants to argue that he’s been doing nothing but resting at Keith’s bedside for the whole day, but he knows that’s not exactly what the man means. It’s well after midnight now, even Shiro can admit the weight of the day is dragging on him.

“There’s a free bed in the next room. I give you my word I will not leave this post if you sleep.” Shiro gives him a dubious look. “And I will wake you if there’s any developments with Keith or the situation.”

Shiro needs the rest, he needs to be sharp and fresh for Keith. And he trusts Kolivan and Krolia. Keith’s in good hands. “Okay,” he says.

He’s asleep almost before he hits the pillow.

 ##

 An argument rouses Shiro.

“How was I supposed to know, Krolia?” It’s Kolivan’s voice, tone tired.

“I don’t know, maybe _look at him?!”_

“You know it’s not that simple, I didn’t even know—“

“I told you!” Krolia hisses. “I fucking told you, and you said you knew all about Nixlardens, and I assumed you were telling the truth because you’re _the leader of the Blades!”_

Shiro gets up from the bed, creeping toward the door. It’s dark in his room, but he can hear them pretty clearly through the door.

“I can’t know everything Krolia.”

“And I don’t expect you to. But I do expect you to properly vet your Blades and that includes _their genealogy_.”

“I checked the database, there’s nothing like that in there about Nixlardens. There was no way of knowing. You’re the only one with that information.”

There’s a sound of a growl. “I love you Kolivan, but I swear if you say one more time that there was no way for you to know, nothing more you could have _done_ , I will jam this blade into your gullet myself.”

Shiro takes that as his cue to open the door and step into the hallway.

Kolivan and Krolia are standing just outside Keith’s door, and Krolia is puffed up like an angry cat. Both set of eyes turn to him.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“No,” Krolia says. “Keith was with that Nixlarden after I _told him not to_ , and come to find out none of you even fucking _know why_ that is a problem. Unbelievable!” And now she turns to Shiro fully and advances on him. “And what’s your excuse? I’m gone for three months, and you let my son get mixed up in something like this?!”

Shiro backs right up to the wall, hands up as Krolia snarls in his face.

“Wait, wait,” Shiro pleas, “what’s a Nixlarden?”

Krolia laughs, but it’s mean and full of teeth. “It’s like you all see purple skin and think all Galra are the same. Nixlarden is the other part of Trak’s parentage, denoted by the black spot pattern.” She gestures at her own face. Shiro remembers the spots. “Given he seems very watered down. But you knew he was of Nix descent, yes?” She looks over her shoulder at Kolivan who nods.

“We test all Blades. Trak is about 12%, it didn’t seem significant based on—“

“Based on inadequate intel." Krolia hisses. "Would have fixed it myself if I had any inkling that no one knew what a _fucking danger_ even 1% Nixlarden blood is!”

“What’s dangerous about his blood?” Shiro feels the anxiety clawing up his throat, the worst of his suspicions about to be confirmed.

Krolia steps back out of his immediate threat zone. “Nixlardens are venomous, their body fluids are used to trap prey by drugging and immobilizing them, but in lesser doses it can act as an addictive substance, allowing them to lure prey back to their dens.”

Shiro feels suddenly sick all over. “What?”

“They mostly mind their own business, they don’t generally breed with other species, so _apparently_ that’s why no one here knew Nixlardens were _fucking venomous!”_

“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Kolivan tries to calm the situation, but Krolia turns to him with murder on her face.

“Kolivan I swear I will end you right now!”

He snaps his mouth shut, looking shamed.

“So Keith’s… been poisoned.” Shiro says. He’s brain is struggling, he feels like he’s been struck. He knew but he didn’t _know._

“Yes,” Krolia says. “He’s been fraternizing with a venomous alien for months now I hear. They’re retesting for toxicity now, but it’s difficult, not even I know what they should look for chemically.”

“Oh.” Shiro takes a breath and then another. He has to ask it. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Yes.” Krolia says, full of heat. As if daring either of them in the corridor to defy her. “Keith is strong and Kolivan is right, Trak was only 12%, so the venom should be somewhat deluded. But… he’s going to have to detox.”

And now Shiro thinks of those instances when Keith fell ill. When he started to shiver and sweat.

Withdrawal. _Fucking hell._

And how he kept seeing that Galra. Kept—

The shame hits him next. This is his fault. He wasn’t watching Keith, wasn’t there for him, wasn’t believing him, or working harder at keeping that _literally toxic_ man away from him.

Krolia’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Hey, Shiro, I need you to breathe.”

But he can’t, he can’t because this is his fault. He let Keith go back to an abuser over and over again because he wasn’t looking close enough. How could he miss all the signs? He’d even thought several times that Keith seemed drugged.

How could he let the blood work and the doctors convince him it wasn’t anything? He _knew Keith_ better than that. He should have.

“Okay, come on, let’s sit down,” Krolia's voice is right in his ear and he’s being lead. He goes easily into the room, Keith’s room, and collapses onto bedside chair.

“This is all my fault,” Shiro says.

“Oh no, honey, no I didn’t really mean that.”

But Shiro can barely hear her. “You’re right,” he says, “I wasn’t watching him, I was too busy with work and— and I left him to— _fuck.”_

“Shiro no,” Krolia’s leaning over him, drawing his eyeline to her. “Listen, this is no one’s fault but Trak’s. He’s the one who did this to Keith. Okay?”

His rational brain tries to point out that what she’s saying is true, but it’s so hard to _feel_ it. He looks at Keith in the bed. The man is unconscious, hooked up to a ton of machines. Shiro feels like the worst friend in the whole galaxy.

“I heard you were the one who got Keith back,” Krolia says.

Shiro nods. It’s the very smallest thing he could have done. “But Trak got away.”

Krolia has an audible breath through her nose. “We’re working on it, and we will find him. If I have to personally check every rock in this galaxy, _I will find him.”_

He remembers Trak’s parting words. The promise that he would come back for Keith. “I’ll help.” He owes that Galra metal fingers digging into his chest, tearing out every one of his precious organs.

Krolia hums, rubs her hand over Shiro’s hair and then traces down his forehead to touch just the edge of the bandage for his reset nose. “I think you would do more good here,” she nods to the bed. “Keith’s going to have a lot of rehabilitation, and I don’t think there’s anyone else he’d rather have at his side for it.”

Shiro scoffs. Surely Keith will see how deeply he’s failed in his friendship and decide he doesn’t want to see Shiro.

“I mean it,” Krolia says, firm. “Kolivan's working on it… but when Keith’s through the worst I need to go, I need to find this man. And I need you to stay with him. I need to know he’s with someone who loves him if I can’t be here.”

Shiro doesn’t know why she should trust him after this colossal failure, so he says so.

“Shiro,” she sighs. “I said some things in the hallway out of anger. I don’t blame you or Kolivan. I don’t blame Keith for not heeding my opaque warning. I trust you with my son implicitly. I know you did the best you could, even if you don’t think so.”

“But—“

“No.” Krolia cuts him off. “I don’t want to argue about this. Keith’s safe now and Kolivan's right, we need to think about moving forward. Will you stay with him while I’m gone?”

There’s a thousand reasons she should no longer trust him with something this important, and yet. Shiro nods in agreement. He can’t imagine who else they could possibly trust to do the job.

Keith’s so small and vulnerable in the bed. Shiro may not deserve it after everything, but he can do this. He will protect Keith with everything that he is.

“Thank you,” Krolia says and then goes to stand beside the bed. She kisses her sons head, Shiro has to look away.

He looks toward the door of the room, and standing there silently is Curtis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, Krolia has never failed a single mission her whole life, and I'm not about to break that streak now.
> 
> Next time: Curtis has some things to say.


	22. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags

They go out of the hospital and into the sunshine. It’s glaringly bright after the time indoors. Shiro feels worn down, he’s aware that he’s still wearing the clothes Kolivan brought him yesterday to change into. He’s mostly unwashed though, sand in all his crevasses.

“Kolivan briefed me, I hope that’s okay.”

It’s honestly a relief, Shiro doesn’t even know how he would get most of the words out of his mouth. “Yeah.”

“I feel like an asshole,” Curtis says. “I didn’t take it seriously enough. Then that Galra came and said a bunch of stuff to me and— now in retrospect I get that he was playing me, playing you, but I’m still sorry. About everything I said last time,” he gestures to the courtyard.

“Wait,” Shiro’s brain snags on one of the details. “Trak… talked to you?”

“Yeah.” Curtis says, he looks upset. “Two days ago. Came and said he’d heard all this stuff about you and Keith running off together. It’s how I found out you were at the hospital… it’s why I was so mad.” There’s a blush on his cheeks but he looks ashamed.

Shiro frowns. Why would the Galra drag Curtis into it? Just to mess with Shiro’s relationship? To cause him problems?

 A problem that would cause him to leave Keith’s bedside—

“Fuck,” he says. It all slots together in his head even though he doesn’t want to. How Keith had been getting worse and worse, because he’d been going into serious withdrawal for the first time. And then Shiro went outside to talk to Curtis and— and then Keith began to get better. By the next morning Keith had been completely fine again. 

As they're experiencing now, he's not going through withdrawal fast. His previous recovery was only possible with an addict getting another hit.

The nausea hits him hard. He left Keith and that Galra somehow—

Shiro stumbles back and throws up on the pavement. Curtis makes a sound of distress.

It’s not that messy, Shiro hasn’t had anything to eat, but the dry heaving is almost worse.

“Shit, are you okay?” Curtis is rubbing his back, half supporting him.

When Shiro finishes heaving, his husband helps him to sit on a nearby bench. They sit there in silence for a few minutes and Shiro is glad for it. Glad for the strong support on his left side so that he doesn’t fall completely to pieces.

When he thinks he can stand it, he stiltingly explains it to Curtis.

His husband looks ill by the end. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I should have known, shouldn't have listened to him.”

Shiro shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.” It’s true enough, because Curtis has a catalog of reasons to be mad at Shiro that have nothing to do with what the Galra said.

“Still. I’m sorry about everything with Keith.”

Shiro nods, staring at the concrete. There are few people in the courtyard, and most are trying not to gawk at them. It’s a kindness after Shiro’s little sick fit.

After a minute Curtis sighs. “I actually came to say something when I heard Keith was in the hospital again. It was… going to be unkind, but I think the idea still stands.”

Shiro is so tired, but at this point everything has been so awful that he figures _why not add some more?_

“Oh?”

“I expect you haven’t remembered with everything going on, and I get that, but our vacation is tomorrow.” His voice is soft, careful.

Shiro did forget. He’s almost too done to be angry that Curtis is bringing this up now.

“And before you say anything, I know, shit timing.” Curtis sounds apologetic, and it’s a little helpful. “I didn’t know the thing with Keith was so serious. But I’ve been getting the feeling that you didn’t want to go on this vacation anyway, and I kept ignoring it because I didn’t want to look at what that would mean, but now.” He sighs again. “You can’t leave Keith, and I think… maybe you never do. Maybe you never will.”

The sudden turn has Shiro spinning. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to come off like the petty spouse making an ultimatum about a vacation,” Curtis takes his hand, rubs gently across Shiro’s bandaged knuckles. “Because this isn’t about the vacation, but it is about being honest with each other. And honestly? It feels like every minute since we’ve been married you’ve been slipping through my fingers. I keep trying to snatch you back, to pin you down, but even if I could, is that what I really want? Someone who begrudgingly goes on a ski trip with me? Who spends the whole time wishing he were somewhere else. With someone else.” The hand on Shiro’s squeezes. “I’m doing this now with spectacularly shitty timing because I think I’m going to go on the trip. An extended trip, and I think you should stay here. With Keith.”

“Are you…” Shiro almost can’t fathom it. “Are you breaking up with me?” He turns to look at Curtis and there are tears.

 Curtis uses his free hand to wipe his eyes. “I was going to come in with a lot more shouting. Really read you your rights and drag your reputation through the mud in front of everyone,” he laughs but it’s half choked with tears. “But maybe this is better, because I love you and I do want you to be happy Shiro, but I don’t think that’s with me. And we both deserve better than settling.”

Shiro doesn’t know what to say. He just stares at his husband, mouth agape.

“But I love you,” he finally blurts out.

Curtis’ smile is watery. “And I love you,” Shiro notices then Curtis’ ring and his own naked hand. They removed his ring while bandaging him in case his fingers swelled. He hasn’t thought to try and put it back on. “But you can’t tell me that even now you’re not counting the minutes until you get back to him.”

He doesn’t _mean to,_ it’s just that Keith is in the hospital, he’s been through so much! “I don’t— it’s not—“

“Hey,” Curtis reaches up and touches his jaw, drawing his eyes back. He’s crying now for real, tears just dripping down his cheeks and it breaks Shiro's heart. Curtis touches the bandage across his nose and frowns. “You don’t have to justify it to me. We’re adults, Shiro, and yeah, it hurts, really totally sucks, but if we keep going along like this it’ll be worse. This is an opportunity, and I think we should take it.”

“We haven’t even been married six months,” Shiro says, and now he’s crying too.

“All the more reason to be sure,” Curtis laughs. “Your heart is so big, but I’m not your center star, Shiro, and I don’t think I ever could be. So that’s it. I've said it. Now I’m going to go.”

The hands slide away, and Shiro feels the lack of ring on his own finger like a loss.

“Will you be back?” Shiro asks.

Curtis leans in then and kisses him once on the cheek. “Eventually. But don’t time me. I deserve to be mad and heartbroken for a bit. To stare at the mountains and curse your name. Dramatically fling myself on the couch of a ski lodge and bemoan my terrible luck in love.”

It’s half a joke, but Curtis’s voice is thick with sadness. Shiro feels worse.

“I’m sorry.”

Curtis gets up and wipes his face again. “I’m sorry too. But don’t beat yourself up about this, okay? Listen to me when I say that it’ll be okay someday, and this will all have been worth it.”

Shiro doesn’t know how that can be when his husband is walking away, is literally breaking up with him and fleeing the state because Shiro’s been so inattentive.

“Goodbye Shiro,” Curtis says.

“Goodbye,” Shiro manages.

His husband— his— he can’t amend it just yet in his brain.

Curtis walks away across the courtyard. The tears drip down Shiro’s face and onto his pants.

When he gets up to go back into the hospital he does not think about the small spark of relief that starts in his belly. It would just make him feel more ashamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to get right, but I hope I did it justice. To me, Shiro is good and honorable and I think he really does love and care about Curtis because that's who he is, he does genuinely care about people. He's just a little slow to realize he loves Keith waaaaaaaaay more. It was important that I write a breakup that doesn't villainize, because sometimes that's just how life is. Sometime you don't love someone as much as they deserve to be loved, so the relationship breaks down. 
> 
> Next time: Keith's withdrawal & the beginnings of recovery.


	23. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags.

It’s hard to watch Keith go through withdrawal, but it’s also a distraction from his own imploding personal life.

On the day that Curtis leaves for the trip, Shiro goes back to work. He gets a frown from Krolia, but he needs it. He needs to stay busy because just sitting at Keith’s bedside will drive him around the bend.

And he wants to cash out all his days off when Keith is actually awake, when Keith could actually use his help.

So he works like a zombie ignoring the stares and the whispers in the hallways and then goes and spends his nights with Keith. More often than not he sits perched beside the bed, tracing the lines and divots of Keith's hand. When necessary he does the washing up, running a cloth over Keith's nose, across his forehead, over the scar on his cheek. He works around all the wiring, the IV, the monitors. He brushes out Keith's hair and quickly becomes better at braiding it.

Sometimes the other paladins come with their condolences and support. They haven't been given all the information because Shiro imagines Keith would like to preserve some privacy, but they're still his family. They still get teary-eyed seeing Keith on the bed, unconscious and pale. Hunk brings baked goods every couple days and they collect faster than they can be eaten.

Mostly it’s Krolia in the room. Keith is never left unattended after Shiro told her his suspicion and they checked with the hospital feeds to confirm. They take shifts, only breaking when Kolivan is available for coverage. 

If there are leads on the Galra, Krolia hasn’t said. It’s likely tactful, she doesn’t want to incentivize Shiro to go running out to space, but it’s still hard not knowing. There’s nothing to counter his paranoia that at any second Keith could be taken from him.

So Shiro works and he watches Keith grow more ill as the doctors fuss trying to get him through the worse of it. His only comfort is that Krolia is always there, and that she would burn the entire planet to the ground before she let Keith go. He believes in her will and Keith’s strength.

It’s a nearly a week of agony before the symptoms begin to decline. Shiro nearly weeps in gratitude the day Keith doesn’t look so gravely pale and sweaty, and then he goes to the cot in the next room that he’s been sleeping on and crashes for twelve hours. He’s late to work the next day, but for the first time in a while he feels a lightness, a spark, a hope. When he sits with Keith that evening he tangles their fingers together and concentrated to feel the heartbeat, the heat of his palm, the tiniest signals that he is alive.

It’s another three days before Keith is well enough to come out of his coma-but-no-one-says-that-word. Shiro is positively vibrating with anxiety.

He’s mostly healed from his fight with Trak, he just has to be careful about his nose and to not tear the last of the scabbing on his knuckles. He’s glad to have all this advanced medicine so when Keith sees him he won’t be wearing all the physical trauma. Keith will need a good environment to get better and deal with all the shit done to him, and Shiro is dedicated to providing it.

He stops by at every break in his schedule to see Keith. On the bed now Keith just appears to be sleeping peacefully, a lot of the wiring has been removed. Each time Krolia smiles at him from her corner perch. She’s also excited, though it’s hard to tell if it’s to see her son wake up or to leave for her mission.

Shiro caught her and Kolivan whispering the other morning in the hall. Intel about the Galra’s location. It was encoded, Shiro couldn’t pick apart any actual information, but it had settled something in his chest.

He trusted Krolia to go and give that Galra what he deserved. And he wanted Keith to wake up so she could go and take care of it, so that Keith won’t ever have to worry about that man ever again.

When it happens, on a Tuesday just as Shiro is getting breakfast, he drops everything. Krolia messages him and he just abandons his tray, booking it out of the cafeteria and toward the hospital.

When he gets there, there’s low whisperings from the room. Krolia bent over Keith, petting his hair and smiling at him adoringly. Shiro knocks on the doorframe to announce himself.

Two sets of identical eyes turn to look at him. Tears spring to his own. He covers the distance to the bed in two strides.

“Hey there,” he says, barely a whisper.

Keith’s still hooked up to all sorts of machines and he looks tired, too pale and too thin, but Shiro’s heart _aches_ at seeing him awake.

“Hey Shiro,” his voice is a croak. “Guess it was my turn to get saved,” his smile is weak.

It startles a laugh out of Shiro. “I think I prefer it the other way around.” He wants to touch, but is afraid.

“Me too,” Keith says. “I feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry starlight,” Krolia says. “I had them keep you off as many substances as possible. We didn’t know what might interact with what you already had in your system.”

“What?” Keith turns back to look at his mother.

She takes a deep breath. “You were being poisoned.”

“How?”

Shiro almost excuses himself, but Keith’s hand nearest him moves, palm up in askance, and Shiro would give him anything right now. He slides his hand into Keith’s.

Krolia starts the difficult explanation and Keith never lets go, so Shiro doesn’t let go.

It’s one of the most painful things he’s ever had to endure.

 ##

 Keith gets better then by degrees. By the second day he can sit up and hold his own water.

Krolia takes Shiro out into the hall and explains that she’d like to leave by the evening. She’s already run it by Keith and it didn’t go well, but she’d promised Shiro’s presence at his bedside and that had gotten her some grace.

There’s not an inch of hesitation in Shiro’s whole body. He immediately pulls out his data pad and puts in for leave.

The higher ups have already been briefed on the situation with Keith, as Kolivan had explained it: a _poisoning by an undercover rogue agent_. So Shiro getting the time off is unlikely to be a problem.

Half an hour later Sam approves it, and Shiro is officially Keith’s guard and caretaker.

Keith grumbles in bed when Krolia kisses him goodbye. “But when can I leave this place?”

“When you’re better.”

Keith huffs. “I can do just as much lying around in my own bed.”

“I know,” she smiles and then looks at Shiro. “Just keep him here one more day, make sure he’s really through the worst of it, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” Shiro vows.

“Traitor,” Keith hisses. Shiro can’t help the smile.

 Krolia leaves then and they don’t talk about what she’s going to do, but it’s like a silent weight in the room. Instead they play round after round of cards and Shiro talks about the trade agreement with Vaeks, and this weeks worst cafeteria foods.

 ##

 Keith holds him to the minute, and then demands the discharge papers. Shiro doesn’t blame him, he remembers his own times in the hospital and how much he hated them. There’s nearly twice as many to sign this time, as the doctors heavily advise against discharge.

“Can you help me?” Keith asks when that’s finished and he’s sliding out from under the covers. He’s taken trips to the bathroom with Krolia so far, but he’s still very weak from the time in bed and the illness.

They work in tandem easily, getting Keith into the bathroom and seated on the toilet lid. Shiro brings Keith the change of clothing he’d snagged earlier from Keith’s apartment and then leaves him to it.

“Let me know if you need any help.”

But Keith doesn’t. It takes a while but when he opens the door, he’s dressed.

The trek back to Keith’s apartment is slow, and at one point Shiro almost just scoops him up.

But Keith’s autonomy has always been a point of pride, and it’s never been more important than now to let him do it on his own. So they get there eventually, and it’s just about dinner time.

Keith collapses onto the couch and Shiro starts pasta for dinner because it’s all there is.

“You know…” Keith says as Shiro is filling the pot. “If uh, you need to go that’s okay.”

“Go?” Shiro turns the burner on and then turns to face Keith while the water heats.

“Home? You know your husband, I’m sure you miss him.”

It’s a shot Shiro isn’t expecting. He hasn’t told Keith. Hasn’t really told anyone. He frowns. “Ex,” he says, because that’s the easiest way through. Tear the band-aid off.

But he can’t look at Keith. He fiddles with the paperwork and junk on the counter.

“Ex?” There’s confusion in Keith’s tone. “Wait, _ex_? As in Ex-husband?!”

He hasn’t even thought it in his head. It’s a weird thing to consider. Different from him and Adam. They’d been exes, but boyfriends didn’t work out every day. Shiro was losing a _husband._

Still it feels distant from him. He cried that day when Curtis left but he hasn’t since, and can’t figure out if it’s repression or just—

Or just Curtis was right.

“Curtis left me.”

“What!?” It’s like gasoline on a flame how Keith lights up. He tries to get up from the couch before Shiro is rounding the kitchen island and waving him back down. “Where is he, I’ll punch him!”

“No, no.” Shiro sighs. “It’s okay Keith. He was right to. We weren’t— _I wasn’t_ — as invested in the marriage as I should have been.” He’s careful to skirt around any Keith-shaped issues because that’s the absolute last thing Keith needs right now. “I was finding excuses not to be home, dragging my feet when we did things together. I mean I didn’t even want to go on a h _oneymoon._ That’s not how either of us want to live. So Curtis is gone for a bit and we’re ah, getting a divorce.”

It’s the first time he’s used the word. Curtis hasn’t sent anything to him since he left and Shiro doesn’t expect him to so soon, but at some point they will have to do the paperwork. Split their assets. Shit, is Shiro going to move?

He can’t imagine staying in an apartment that was once shared with his ex-husband.

“Wow,” Keith looks literally stunned. “I’m sorry Shiro.”

“It’s… fine,” Shiro says. Keith gives him a dubious look. “So anyway, dinner right?”

Keith lets it go, but the rest of the evening has a weird feel and he keeps catching Keith watching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All these talky chapters are so hard. Trying to push these things along because I'm sure you all, like me, are ready for some Grade A Pining. 
> 
> Next time: The boys pretend like they are 100% okay. Sure Jan.


	24. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***In this chapter but also going forward Keith will say some very minimizing things about sexual trauma, this does absolutely not reflect anyone else's experience, or the actual seriousness of the trauma.***

 Shiro startles out of sleep that first night and grabs at the figure leaning over him. He recognizes it as Keith and immediately moves to subdue him.

Keith squawks as he hits the carpet with Shiro’s weight on top of him.

“Shiro! It’s me!”

The slightly bristled tone is what cues Shiro in. Keith’s not out of his head, he doesn’t need to be held down. Shiro moves off him with a dozen apologies.

“It’s fine, I should’ve known better,” he groans and rubs at his wrists.

“I’m so sorry,” Shiro says again. His eyes go to the digital clock in the kitchen: it’s the middle of the night. “What were you doing up?”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to look embarrassed. “Ah, I um, couldn’t sleep.” He pauses a little too long and then shakes it off. “Thought maybe if I came out here the noise of your snoring might help.”

“I don’t snore!” They’re both sitting on the ground so Shiro gives him a friendly shove.

“Like a bear.”

“Oh shut up.” Shiro looks at Keith in the dim lighting. He’s still in his pajamas, hair a mess, and he’s looking down.

_He doesn’t want to sleep alone_.

It’s not an especially difficult leap. They haven’t talked about the Galra outside the bare facts, and Krolia never said exactly where she was going, but Keith is no dummy. Shiro can’t imagine what it must feel like to worry that he’s still out there, that at any moment he could just slip in and—

It absolutely won’t happen, but that’s small consolation for trauma.

“Well then I guess I can offer my services,” Shiro gets up from the carpet and offers his hand. Keith looks unsure, but takes it.

“Are you sure?” Keith says when Shiro begins to usher him to the bedroom.

“Hush now, it’s sleep time.” It’s too late to break it down. All Keith needs to know is that if that anything he needs, Shiro will provide.

They get into Keith’s bed on opposite sides. The comforter is warm, and it smells of lilac.

Shiro carefully keeps his mind blank. They’re sleeping, and Keith needs this.

“Shiro?” It’s barely a whisper minutes later when Shiro is falling back into sleep.

“Hm?”

There’s a slight shuffling but the comfort of the bed lulls him and Shiro keeps drowsing.

“Thank you,” Keith says.

His lips move, but Shiro isn’t sure he gets any words out. He’s asleep.

##

Keith’s in the shower when Shiro wakes. It’s a terrifying two minutes of anxiety before before he decides to embarrass himself by knocking on the door. Keith calls back that he'll be done shortly.

And then it continues to happen. Every time Keith leaves his line of sight Shiro gets a spike of unimaginable dread. They move mostly around Keith’s apartment, making few journeys out for food, but even Keith dipping into the bedroom throws Shiro into a mini crisis.

He doesn’t know what to do about it.

He tries to hide it from Keith.

He should have known better.

“Hey,” Keith catches him as he’s coming out of the shower the second day. He’d been putting off the shower because of the fear, but then had run into the guilt of not showering and getting into Keith’s bed sweaty and gross.

“Hey,” Shiro replies, and then sits on the bed when Keith motions to it.

“Everything okay?” Keith took a shower before him and his hair is still wet. It’s kind of adorable the way it hangs heavy, dripping a spot onto his shirt.

“Yeah, why?”

Keith gives him that bullshit look. “Because you’ve been looking a little peaky. Is it about Trak? You can’t really think he’d come back here, do you? I’m pretty sure my mother is gutting him as we speak.”

Leave it to Keith to cut right through everything with his bluntness.

“Well I don’t think it’s unreasonable to be worried that someone who seriously hurt my best friend might reappear to hurt them some more.” It slips out, angry.

Keith frowns. “Shit I didn’t mean it like— yeah of course you can be worried I just—“ Keith makes a sound of frustration.

“You’re fine,” Shiro cuts in, apologetic. “I didn’t mean to come off so defensive, I just can't control the worry.”

Keith falls back into the bed with a whuff of breath. “Aren’t we just a pair?”

And they are, in a bad sort of fucked-up way. Shiro lays back beside him. “Yeah.” Then something else catches at his edges. “You know, you seem to be taking everything remarkably well.” The only thing Keith’s asked him for is to share a bed, and that’s not even close to a hardship for Shiro. In his head he’d expected more… maybe like in the movies. Tears and traumatic episodes, or maybe denial and a closed-offness. So far Keith’s been fairly himself.

“To be honest,” Keith says, “I don’t think I’ve really connected with it. Like I know I was being drugged, but for the majority of it I actually wanted to be doing what I was doing. It feels shitty, like you dated a creep that always plied you with too many beers, but what’s that compared to watching your best friends die? To watching every reality torn from existence? Trak was just the four hundredth shitty thing.”

Shiro reaches for Keith’s hand, overcome with absolute sadness. Keith’s so strong and has been through so much. Listening to him practically shrug off months of assault because it’s not the _worst_ thing to ever happen to him cuts Shiro deeply.

And then Shiro’s throat is clogging, and a feeling so huge and devastating moves into his chest.

The sob gets free, and then he’s turning into Keith as Keith turns into him. They cling to each other as Shiro breaks down. 

Keith murmurs nothingness to him, but he can’t stop. He cries about Keith’s childhood, about losing Allura, about the lions, about cutting that scar into Keith’s face. He cries about the unfairness of it all. Adams death, the impending divorce with Curtis, about Keith, beautiful, amazing, and strong Keith who can go through everything he has in his life and still be so good.

It lasts a long time and Keith holds him through it. Soothes him when Shiro should be the one soothing.

“You big idiot,” Keith says with a sniff. “Don’t cry about me.” He pulls Shiro’s hand to his face and kisses his knuckles.

“Can’t help it,” Shiro says, throat ragged and tears smeared into Keith’s shirt.

Keith holds his knuckles to his mouth, eyes on Shiro’s. He’s gone all watery too, expression unbearably soft.

“I’m okay now though,” Shiro says, and finds he actually means it. He feels drained but cleaner, like he’s gotten the first deep breath in weeks.

“We’re okay now,” Keith says.

When they both dry up they move up into the bed proper, but return to their earlier positions, curled toward each other. Keith takes his hand again and presses a kiss to the knuckles and then holds it to his face.

Shiro lets him, doesn’t even want to take his hand back. They breathe together in the dark, warmth blooming between them.

Shiro stays awake long enough to watch Keith fall asleep, trying to memorize the way he looks in this moment.

Peaceful but radiant, like a distance star guiding Shiro across the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated before, Keith will be fairly durable to the sexual trauma he's experienced. This is a lot because I absolutely cannot write the 400k words needed to really get in there about it, and because he's a character that compartmentalizes well. There will be some struggles for him going forward, but I have a very specific path I'm taking him on. 
> 
> Next time: Bed sharing comes with its own challenges.


	25. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags.

Shiro awakes in warmth. He’s comfortable, tucked beneath a weighty blanket and the room is silent and dark. He goes to move his hand, but finds it trapped. He turns his head, because Keith had been holding his hand and maybe he’s lying on it now.

But no. Instead, Keith has Shiro’s hand to his mouth, two of his fingers inside and—

It’s wet, burning, he twitches his fingers because he can’t help it.

Keith sighs, asleep, and gives one barely-there suck on his fingers.

Shiro’s entire body locks up in fear.

He holds his breath and doesn’t move, is too afraid that trying to get his hand back out of Keith’s clutches will wake him.

But the longer he lies there and nothing happens, the more the anxiety begins to dissipate. This isn’t like the madness of before. Keith is asleep, and he looks calm and at peace.

He’s only got Shiro’s fingers in his mouth.

_Don’t think about it, don’t think about it._

He tries to dissect it scientifically. People who quit cigarettes have a similar behavioral urge. They get past most of the chemical triggers, but the urge to have something in their mouth persists. It’s fine and normal and Shiro absolutely cannot make this weird.

Keith may be shrugging off the trauma of his experience thus far, but shaming him about his behaviors will not ease the healing.

So Shiro has to play this cool. Because sucking on fingers is fine and only sexual if he can’t keep his own libido in check.

He thinks about Krolia in those quiet moments, sitting in the corner of Keith’s hospital bed and sharpening her blade.

It’s image is… helpful.

Shiro turns his eyes away from Keith and back to the ceiling. It feels too early to wake, so he should try and go back to sleep.

Keith makes a soft, rumbly sound as he shifts a little. Shiro feels it on his finger tips.

He takes a long, slow breath in and a long, slow breath out.

 ##

 The next time he wakes Keith has already left the bed and his hand is beside him, as if nothing of notice happened at all. He doesn’t know if Keith’s aware of his behavior, but Shiro doesn’t want to make a point of it.

They spent most of that day in the gym, after Shiro agrees that Keith seems well enough to work out.

There’s a lot of looks as people come in and out, but they have blocked off a corner for themselves, so Shiro ignores it. It’s more important to watch Keith. To make sure he’s starting slow, listening to the limits of his body.

Talk him down from his frustration when he finds himself too weak for even half his normal amount of pushups.

“You know,” Keith says when he comes out of the shower, toweling his hair. He’s not wearing a shirt and Shiro diverts his eyes. “I’m not as mad about the poisoning itself as I am about how it put me in a bed for a week and turned my muscles to mush.” Keith grabs his clean shirt off the bench and trades his towel for it.

 “You’ll get it back,” Shiro says, standing up from his perch near the showers. He’s eager to get back to Keith’s apartment where he can shower with a manageable amount of anxiety about leaving Keith unattended.

“Just annoying,” Keith packs up his dirty clothes and then looks Shiro over. “You gonna shower?”

“When we get back, you ready?”

Keith laughs and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.” They exit the locker room and start toward Keith’s apartment. “You know,” Keith says when they aren’t near anyone who could overhear them. “Since I’ve detoxed I’m not actually in danger of being swayed by Trak. Like if he showed up to try and kidnap me or something, I’d just put a blade in his belly.”

It’s probably true, but Shiro can just think of Keith last night. How, either consciously or subconsciously, he tried to—

Rather, maybe Keith’s not as free of Trak’s sway as he thinks himself to be. Not that Shiro can say that. He doesn’t want to put such a damaging fear on a man who’s already been through so much.

“You’d have to beat me to it.” Shiro says.

Keith bumps him. “Oh yeah? I heard you gave the Galra a beating.”

He’d only told the details of their fight to Kolivan in case Trak had gone for medical treatment and could be found that way.

Shiro shrugs. “You put a sword through Sendak for me, it was the least I could do.”

They walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

 ##

 He wakes that night because Keith elbows him. Shiro grunts and comes awake in sweltering heat.

Keith’s pressed back to his front, with Shiro’s arm wrapped around him. They’re spooning.  

And now Shiro’s thumb is in Keith’s mouth.

It’s.

Uh.

Hot. Physically. Their body heat between them has Shiro’s shirt sticking to him. His thumb shifts against Keith’s tongue. Wet.

_Fuck._

Shiro doesn’t know what the morality is here. Keith’s been through a trauma and the last thing he needs is someone else barreling into his space.

Unless what this is about is Keith needing comfort. Needing someone safe who will stay in his bed and protect him.

But then again maybe Shiro’s hardening cock pressed up against Keith’s ass makes him ineligible to be the Safe Friend.

And _then_ there’s the theory that sex with a safe partner could help Keith to process his injuries, take back his power and sexuality. Shiro’s seen the studies on it, and sometimes it really does help people.

But does that not count if Shiro’s intentions are a little bit selfish? If in the moments he’s not actively repressing it, he has a Keith-shaped burn in his chest.

Shiro doesn’t know. There’s something that has to be done if this continues, but he’s lost in the weeds as to what that is. And he’s desperate not to fuck it up.

Maybe Curtis had a point.

The shame of that thought kills his hard-on completely. He sighs into the dark hair, breathes in the smell of lilac.

For once he lets himself of the hook. A decision has to be made, but it doesn’t have to be this moment. Instead, he lets himself hold Keith and knows that he’s safe, that for this one moment everything is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert gay panic]  
> I wrote the hot stuff yesterday, so it's a few chapters away but it's.... comingggggg.
> 
> Next time: Is it sexual tension or emotional edging?


	26. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really *new*, but I added oral fixation and addiction to the main story tags.

Morning comes with Keith’s quiet whisper. “Shiro?”

Shiro feels tired still, he nuzzles the warmth in his arms.

“Shiro, I need to pee.”

Actual consciousness checks back in. He’s still got his arm banded around Keith, keeping them pressed together.

Keeping Keith’s ass against his very hard—

“Oh! Sorry!” Shiro flails and rolls over to hide his erection against the bed. Not that Keith was likely to miss that with how it was slotted right against him.

He feels shame burn his face. He hides in his pillow.

“It’s okay,” Keith says, but he sounds strange. The weight on the bed shifts and then Shiro hears the sound of him padding to the bathroom.

They don’t talk about it.

On the walk to the gym later that morning Shiro feels the eyes on them, catches Curtis’ name whispered in rumor. It’s been a few days now and word has gotten around.

Curtis is gone and Keith is injured but sticking to Shiro like glue. It’s not hard to imagine what the worst of the rumors are like.

So it’s not surprising on their third walk around the building as warm-up that Keith snaps.

“I mean don’t they have anything better to talk about?!”

Shiro doesn’t need the context, they just passed a pair of cadets giving Keith the stink eye if he’s the home wrecker.

“No,” Shiro says. “I feel like I should apologize though. My personal life imploded at the worst possible time and now you have to deal with this on top of everything else.”

Beside him Keith stops, reaches for Shiro to turn him toward him. “Hey, no, that’s not— I’m just annoyed everyone’s gossiping about you. Having a… separation—“

“Divorce,” Shiro cuts in. He needs to face it.

Keith winces. “Divorce. That isn’t easy. It’s none of their business so I wish they would shut the hell up.”

Shiro is reminded of Krolia in the hospital hallway puffed up and ready to fight. It’s charming how much they’re alike.

“You don’t have to defend my honor,” Shiro says with a smile. “It’s okay. And I was kinda shitty to Curtis—“

“No,” Keith cuts in. “No you’re amazing and for anyone to imply you’d do even a fraction of what they’re saying is slanderous!”

Shiro puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder and squeezes. It’s impossible to tell Keith that the reason he thinks so highly of Shiro is because Shiro does treat him differently. He has for years. What they have has always been special, so of course it causes rumors, came between him and _his husband._

Ex.

Even now looking at Keith’s stern, fiery expression, Shiro feels warm. Protected. He wants to press in closer, or make an excuse for them to go back to Keith’s apartment and to his bed.

It’s scary how much there was behind the locked door in Shiro’s chest. It’s been days since Curtis left, _days,_ and yet Shiro feels like it was a lifetime ago.

He loved Curtis and the idea of their marriage, had planned on staying faithful and married and happy but—

It was like black and white to color. Keith is red and vibrant and alive, and Shiro is the biggest fool in all of existence for only seeing it all now.

Because what he feels for this man before him is _so much,_ so enormous, and how has he spent years not realizing that’s what it was? 

“Thanks Keith,” Shiro says instead. He can’t go there with his feelings right now, not with Keith or with himself. It’s been _days_ , and he needs to not feel like a complete asshole.

“I just wish they would stop,” Keith huffs.

Shiro takes his hand back and they resume their walk. “They will. I’m news today, but it’ll blow over soon enough.”

Keith grumbles further. Shiro tries to pretend he’s not charmed by it.

 ##

 That night in bed Keith is restless. His leg muscles have been twitching all evening from the workout, and they must still be because he can’t seem to settle on a position.

The movement keeps pulling Shiro back from sleep.

Finally Keith gives an audible, annoyed sigh.

“Everything okay?” Shiro asks.

“No,” Keith rolls onto his back and starfishes until his arm and leg bumps Shiro. “I can’t sleep.”

There’s a non-addictive sleep medication on the kitchen counter, so Shiro offers to go get it.

“No, it’s not that. I mean it is but,” there’s another explosive sigh. “I know what it is but I’m embarrassed.”

This piques Shiro’s interest. They’ve been through everything together, there’s nothing that Keith should feel ashamed of.

“You can tell me anything. I would never judge you.” Shiro tilts his head to look at Keith. It’s dark in the room, but he can just make out Keith’s profile.

“Um.” Keith rolls onto his side to face away from Shiro. “Could you maybe face away? Maybe that’ll make it easier?”

Shiro does. “Okay?”

There’s a gap of silence then. “So uh,” Keith starts. “With the whole addiction thing. Um, behaviorally, you know how sometimes you get used to something, and uh, if it was tied to chemicals you can still… so you know how in Traeger's class when they covered addiction and talked about how when smokers quit—“

It clicks for Shiro, so he blurts out, “Is this about the finger sucking?”

The silence that follows could kill a lesser man. Shiro starts to sweat. He can't believe he just said that.

“Oh, uh, you know about that?” Keith’s voice is so small and delicate.

“Yeah.” Shiro says. “And it’s fine. I get it. And I’m here for you. No judgement. It’s normal. I mean in situations like this. It’s not— it’s fine.” Is Shiro talking too much? Is his voice weird and stilted? His nerves are all clamoring together yelling at him to fix this. To make Keith okay.

“Okay.” Keith says.

“Yeah.” Shiro says.

There’s another silence. Then Shiro takes a fortifying breath. “So it’s…?”

“Yeah. An urge. It’s annoying. It just keeps pinging my brain.”

“There are sleeping pills.” Shiro says, because he _cannot_ volunteer the other solution.

“I know.” Back to back Keith shuffles. “But I don’t want to take any more drugs. I just want it to stop so I can sleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

Keith sighs. “It’s fine. I feel a little better just talking about it. Thought you would be weirded out since I,” He trails off and doesn’t finish.

“No it was fine,” Shiro says. He avoids thinking about waking up with his fingers in Keith’s mouth. “It didn’t bother me.”

“Cool. Okay, thanks Shiro.” There’s some more shuffling. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Shiro waits for more movement, for Keith to say anything further. He can’t figure out if he’s anticipating or dreading it. What would he do if Keith asked..?

It’s a non-question. The answer has always been that he’d do anything for Keith. Eventually the silence lasts so long that Shiro does slip off to sleep.

It’s becoming normal to wake up in warmth. Shiro’s never slept better.

When he opens his eyes he finds they’ve rolled to facing each other in the night. Keith has his arm clutched to him, Shiro’s fingers just there at Keith’s mouth.

They’ve slipped out in his unconsciousness, but if Shiro just moved his pointer finger he could touch Keith’s lips.

The very thought is a full body shock.

He maps Keith’s face in the early morning light. Long eye lashes, sharp cheek bones. The disgruntled wrinkle that normally sits between his eyebrows has been worn smooth by sleep. He looks peaceful. Beautiful.

From all the tossing and turning Keith’s hair is a tangle, in parts plastered to his cheek.  

Shiro doesn’t think it through, just moves his hand the little he can in Keith's grasp to clear it, to tuck the dark strands behind his ear.

He traces his fingers back along Keith’s jaw and stops just before his mouth.

Then those violet eyes are open, are watching him.

Neither of them say anything. The silence feels too precious to break.

Shiro’s heart skyrockets. Keith parts his lips with a small whuff of breath. Shiro swallows. It’s so quiet, they’re so close.

He touches the corner of Keith’s mouth.

There’s a small sound in return. Shiro doesn’t know what it means, but at least Keith hasn’t run from the bed. His eye flicker up and Keith is still watching him, intense.

His finger moves on without his permission, tracing the top pink edge of Keith’s lips. It’s slow, painfully slow, taking a millennia to get to the bow.

It’s a good shape, the sort an artist would be interested in drawing. Elegant and purposeful. He traces back down and then to Keith’s bottom lip.

At the indent of an toothmark, his finger stops. It traces the shape, the slight chapped skin.

And then Keith opens his mouth a little more and his finger slips in.

They make a pair of breathy noises. Shiro is hardly breathing as it is, he can’t take his eyes off Keith’s mouth. He’s too close to know what the rest of Keith’s face is doing, but he hopes this is okay. Fears that this is okay.

He presses in slowly. With just one finger on Keith’s tongue, it's strange to notice the texture. He has put his fingers in other mouths before, but it was mostly in sex spaces. He was categorizing the wet and heat and how to drive his partner's arousal higher. This is… different.

Of course it’s _wet_ and _hot_ , but there’s something else. How Keith lets him move slow, how they’re not touching anywhere but here. Just Shiro’s finger running the flat shape of Keith’s tongue, touching the sharpness of his teeth.

Keith is breathing slow and measured. Shiro slides his finger in deeper.

“Is this okay?” He says then. Because he has to know. He forces himself to look at Keith’s eyes.

Keith blinks and then closes his mouth around the digit. There’s an approving hum that Shiro feels on his fingertip. It rattles his entire body.

_It’s so intimate,_ he thinks as they lay there. Shiro stills his finger and Keith doesn’t do anything. Still, Shiro isn’t tired of looking. There’s something about this that’s so affecting.

_Trust._

It falls through his chest like an absolute truth. Keith trusts him.

Not that he didn’t know that, they’ve both risked their lives for each other, but this is… another level. This is Keith letting him into this new and strange part of himself. Being vulnerable and open with something he considered embarrassing. Keith was ashamed that what the Galra did to him couldn’t be so easily wiped away. Afraid that Shiro would reject him.

And yet here he is, taking this risk. Letting Shiro give him something he needs, hopefully something that can soothe. The knowledge of that trust fills Shiro, makes it hard to breathe around the realization.

“Anything you need,” Shiro whispers, because he has to try and convey just how much this means to him. How wonderful Keith is. “Anything at all, just ask.”

Then Keith is pulling back, Shiro’s finger slipping from his mouth. He smiles, small and shy. The only sliver of white in the dark room. “Thank you Shiro.”

Shiro smiles in return. His heart pounds.

They settle into sleep after that. Shiro waits until Keith's breathing has gone flat, until he's sure Keith doesn't need anything more, before succumbing himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also specialize in graphic foreplay.
> 
> Next time: “I need it,” Keith whines, falling to his knees.


	27. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags.

They spend another day building Keith’s strength and then make a stop at the medic building before dinner so they can test Keith’s blood again.

So far there’s been no signs of any internal damage from the poison, but Keith has a handful of appointments spread out just to be certain. Krolia had made sure of it before she left.

The doctor clears him and then they swing by the cafeteria for dinner.

“I told you, I’m perfectly healthy,” Keith says, loading his to-go container with pasta.

Shiro eyes his food choices dubiously. “So indulge your mother and I, it’ll help us sleep better at night.” He fills his own container up with a healthier assortment of food in the hopes that Keith can be bribed to it later.

Keith rolls his eyes and finishes by fitting some sort of a chocolate dessert into the corner of the box beside the mashed potatoes.

Shiro mimes throwing up and stacks some fruit on his own. Keith gives him an elbow in retaliation.

Back in Keith’s apartment Shiro suggests they split the boxes between them. He tries to be subtle about watching Keith eat some greens and healthy food, but figures by the way Keith smiles to himself he isn’t that sneaky.

They finish dinner and take turns in the bathroom washing up and changing into sleepwear. Shiro keeps his thoughts out of the bedroom. He doesn’t want to project expectations or fears into their space. Whatever is going to happen, will happen.

“Can’t we watch a movie or something? I’m not tired yet.” Keith is already settling down onto the couch, propping his legs up onto the coffee table.

“Yeah, sure.” Shiro gets a blanket because that’s his preferred method of couch potatoing.

“Oh good idea,” Keith says, scooting over to join him beneath the blanket while he flicks through things on the server to watch.

It’s cozy, nice. A little too nice. Shiro has an immediate fantasy of throwing an arm over Keith’s shoulders and tugging him closer. You could do that to a friend and it wouldn’t mean anything, right? There’s a lot of physical things that you could do with a friend.

But what if it doesn’t come off platonic? What if Keith can hear his heart start to pound?

What if he thinks that Shiro is using him as a rebound? Or worse, what if he thinks Shiro is just some sleaze like that Galra?

He stops those thoughts in their tracks. This is _Keith,_ after all. He trusts Shiro, believes in Shiro, would never imagine Shiro to be anything but honorable. Shiro knows these things because Keith has said them to him.

It’s still hard to quell the ‘what if’ fears. They only seem to grow when it comes to Keith.

“How’s Py Sgar Cuhweath?” Keith asks, stopping on a title that isn’t English.

What they watch suddenly doesn’t matter at all to Shiro. He’s cuddled up on the couch with Keith, no responsibilities or emails to take care of, nothing else matters.

“Sounds good.”

The film is hard to follow. It’s very alien, so along with reading subtitles the plot formula just… escapes Shiro. After Keith yawns thirty minutes in and leans up against him, Shiro stops trying to understand it all together.

By the end Keith’s asleep, his head slumped over on Shiro. Shiro’s had no choice but to loop his arm around Keith in return.

It’s nice. He feels so relaxed, body ready for sleep.

But he can’t let them stay here on the couch. Keith needs absolute proper care while he’s recovering.

It’s just… he looks at Keith in the dim lighting. His nose is half mushed into Shiro’s shirt, there’s already a spot of drool. He just wants to curl up around him. Protect and love Keith how he deserves.

But, but, but. He shakes off the negative thoughts in the periphery. Focus on the task.

Keith mumbles sleepily when Shiro twists and slides his hands under his curled form.

“Sh…?”

Shiro lifts him easily in a bridal carry, Keith’s head tucked up against his throat. “Bed time.” Shiro mumbles.

Surprisingly Keith doesn’t wake completely and demand to be let down. It had been a probable outcome, even if Shiro was secretly hoping against it.

So he carries Keith into the bedroom, being careful of his toes through the doorway. Getting the comforter out of the way to lie him down is a little more difficult, but Shiro manages.

From the bed Keith blinks at him slowly, expression placid and half-asleep. It stirs up Shiro's insides in a way that’s never happened to him before. He’s struck yet again by what an iceberg of feelings he’s been hiding from himself.

Then Keith reaches one hand out for him, and Shiro is lost.

There’s a lot of reasons why he shouldn’t, but he’s tired and Keith is asking. He crawls into the bed and scoots right up to Keith, slinging the metal arm over his waist and pulling him in.

Keith goes easily, his head right back against Shiro’s tee.

“This okay?”

There’s a rumbly low noise and then a slight movement. Keith plucks at his human hand that’s slid under the pillow and pulls it down to him.

Two fingers to mouth. Shiro tries to have no reaction to it. Wills his cock down at the kittenish sucking. It’s not sex, it’s comfort. Keith needs comfort.

The man in his arms sighs, whole body going lax. Shiro tries to memorize the moment, the smell of lilac, the subconscious movement of a tongue beneath his fingertips.

He knows it can’t go on this way. He has to say something. Keith has to at least be informed that Shiro—

He squeezes Keith, pressing his mouth to the top of that dark hair. He tells himself it’s not a kiss.

##

“I need it,” Keith whines, falling to his knees. Already his nails are clawing at Shiro’s clothing, scaling up to pluck at the zipper.

And _quiznack,_ he’s a wet dream. On his knees and begging for it. Shiro’s cock is hot and hard in his hands.

“This what you want?” He taps the fat head on Keith’s bottom lip as the other man tries to get more.

“Please,” his beautiful mouth is open now, lips pink and plush. Just waiting for Shiro to push in.

Shiro watches it stretch, lips straining as his dribbling cockhead goes in—

 

And then wakes in bed, cock throbbing thanks to the friction grinding against it. But that’s— he’s not—

His eyes fly open and find them much in the same position they fell asleep on. Shiro’s hand is just resting against Keith’s chin, but that’s not the issue. No, the issue is Keith’s thigh that’s somehow between Shiro’s legs, and his own between Keith’s.

And Keith, still asleep, rocking against him.

_Fucking hell, shit, damnit, fucking fuck._

He can’t think anything further than curse words, because the pleasure is shorting his brain. He needs to stop this, but he doesn’t know how. Can’t get his body to push and pry Keith off.

Because every time Keith grinds against him he gets a little bit closer to the edge. And _fuck,_ he needs to come so bad.

But this is bad. This is very not good. He can’t see with the blanket, but he has to imagine that hardness against his own thigh is Keith’s cock. That he’s trying to—

Shiro can’t _breathe!_

“K-keith.” He gets his hand on Keith’s shoulder. It’s a step.

The rocking falters, stops. That’s almost worse. Shiro has to get himself out of this situation so he can go to the bathroom and get his hand on himself.

He’s pretty sure it’ll take just one stroke.

Carefully he pushes at Keith’s shoulder, and man groans but allows himself to be pushed onto his back. Shiro does not look at the tent in the bedding.

“Wha?”

“Just gotta pee,” he says.

But before he can go about slinking out of the bed with his shame, a hand snaps out and grabs his.

“Wait,” Keith’s voice is a croak. “I’m sorry!” He can see the man waking up to the mental math of how they were.

“No,” Shiro doesn’t pull away, but turns back to Keith. Arousal comes second to making sure Keith’s feelings aren’t damaged. “No it’s fine,” he grins sheepishly. “Just gonna, ah, use the restroom.”

Keith’s eyes go down to his lap where the blankets are bunched. The heat flares across his cheeks. “Are you…?”

“Um yeah, we were, uh. But it’s fine, really. Just gonna go take care of it. You know how it is in the mornings.” He tries to laugh like it’s a joke but it falls fairly flat.

That wrinkle is back between Keith’s eyebrows. “I just… the urges are really strong.”

Shiro nods. “And that’s okay, you should never be ashamed.”

Keith frowns. “I know. It’s just easier when you’re here. But I don’t— you’re just such a good friend and I don’t want to abuse that.”

The shape of his concern is coming together for Shiro. Keith’s afraid of being like that Galra. He wants… support or maybe physical closeness, but he’s afraid of making Shiro do something he doesn’t want to.

“You never would,” Shiro says. “Remember that time you asked me to go with you to the chili festival, but chili is an unholy abomination against mankind so I said no?”

“A food fair isn’t sex,” Keith deadpans.

Shiro almost chokes. “No, no it’s not. But I mean, you can ask me for anything Keith, and if I don’t want to do it then I won’t. We trust each other and we communicate honestly,” he reaches across the comforter to touch Keith’s shoulder. “So you would never abuse me. It’s pretty much impossible.”

Keith bites his lip, looking Shiro over again. He won’t deny it sends spikes of heat through his body.

“Then would you stay? And, uh,” Keith makes a gesture toward his lap.

Shiro’s heart is pounding, his brain struggling to put those words together. He can’t really mean…

“You want…?” Shiro says.

“It’s been hard to, uh, finish. By myself. I got used to, you know.” Keith’s eyes have dropped to the bed, he’s fiddling with the edge of the comforter.

“Oh,” Shiro shifts on the bed. Moves closer. “I could help.”

His face flames. Did he really just say that? He just _offered—_

Keith closes his eyes and takes a breath. He’s pink and ruffled from sleep. Shiro _yearns_ to get his hands on that hair, to touch those lips again and see if they’re still as soft.

“Please.” Keith says, his eyes are still closed.

And that's it for Shiro, he’s gone. He never stood a chance.

He moves closer, into Keith’s space. Tells himself over and over again that this is just sex. Just a friend helping another friend. There’s even terms for it these days. It will be totally fine and normal.

So he puts his flesh hand on Keith’s shoulder again, slides it up to the curve of his throat. Those lovely eyes flutter open.

“If you need to stop, if anything isn’t okay, you just say so and we will stop.”

“Yeah,” This close Keith’s answer is more of a breath.

It would be so easy to just lean the few inches distance and kiss him. _Fuck_ , Shiro wants to kiss him.

This is dangerous.

But Shiro’s a fool. He runs at danger, challenges the impossible, reaches for distant stars.

He’s never met a cliffs edge he didn’t want to throw himself over on a hoverbike, and this one looks especially good.

His metal hand wanders down to Keith’s ribs. “We should lie back down,” Shiro says. His voice is remarkably calm for what’s going on inside his chest.

Keith nods and they both scoot down to lying down. Face to face, there’s barely any distance. He can feel Keith’s breath on his skin when the other man breathes out. Shiro’s hand moves further down to his waist, to the band of Keith’s sleep shorts.

His cock is a heavy ache at this point, but he ignores it. He can do this. For Keith.

The fingers skirt the waistband to the center. Keith’s breathing falters, he licks his lips. Shiro watches his face for any signs of distress and begins to move his hand down into Keith’s shorts.

It’s almost innocent how they are. Barely touching but for Shiro’s hand on his throat and wrapping around his cock. It’s hidden beneath the blanket, Shiro only has Keith’s face to witness as he curls his fist around him.

But fuck if it’s not one of the hottest things to ever happen to Shiro. Keith’s mouth opens like he wants to make a noise, but it’s just a whoosh of breath. It’s a flutter of eyelashes.

In his hand Keith’s cock is hard, hot, he almost wishes he had used his human hand so he could get a more accurate sensation.

But then maybe that would be _worse._

“Shiro,” Keith whines when he fails to move.

And no, oh no, _that’s_ actually worse.

Shiro starts to move his hand, mapping Keith out from base to tip. He wishes he could see him, how beautiful his cock must look.

He’s torn away from the thought by Keith’s face. It’s—

_Exquisite_.

He’s closed his eyes, mouth just ever so parted so tiny little sounds can escape. He’s slightly turned into the pillow as if the sensation is too much.

Shiro strokes him steady, staying slow. He concentrates on what sensations his arm does give him. The heat of Keith’s cock, a slight wetness at the tip. On the next pass up he swipes his thumb over the head.

Keith wails.

Shiro curses, moves just an inch closer. “It’s okay,” he mumbles into Keith’s cheek, “I’ve got you.”

He can feel Keith’s hips starting to move, the way his breathing is picking up, his sounds coming more frequent and much more devastating.

But Shiro doesn’t quicken his pace. He wants this to last and he wants to take Keith gently to the edge. Every moment watching Keith is a revelation. He’s absolutely transcendent like this, moaning and breathing wet into the pillow.

Shiro begins to focus on the head, slows down just a smidge but tightens his fist. Really makes the head pop in and out.

And then there’s a claw in his shirt, another hand reaching for his human one. Keith bumps his nose, tilting just a little out of the pillow.

“Shiro,” he moans, and for one breathtaking second Shiro thinks they might kiss, that if Keith turned just an inch further their lips would slide together and—

“Keith,” he groans in return. He feels like he could come just from this. Just from watching this magnificent creature in the throes of pleasure.

Then Keith pulls his human hand to his mouth and sucks down three of Shiro’s fingers. Wails around those fingers like it’s the best thing he’s ever had, and in Shiro’s other hand he begins to come.

Shiro holds his breath in witness of it. Keith is almost squirming how he moves into Shiro, bobbing his mouth on those fingers and moaning with every wave of pleasure.

Shiro works him through carefully, feeling the wetness coat the blanket, his hand. He gentles his stroke as Keith comes down. As the man relaxes into a puddle on the bed.

And then the burning heat of his own arousal can’t be ignored a second longer.

Shiro’s removes his metal hand and shoves off the comforter a little to get one-handed at his own cock. He’s so hard he has no shame left when he pulls his cock out into the morning sunshine.

All he can think about is how Keith’s still gently sucking at his fingers and the hand he’s wrapping around his cock is smeared in come. _Keith’s_.

It takes less than four strokes, and he’s coming. It’s the best orgasm he’s had in ages, heavy from how long he’s been aroused, so turned on by everything that just happened. He comes all over his sleepshirt and stomach, groaning with the pure pleasure of it. It feels amazing.

Just as he’s coming down Keith tongues at the pads of his fingers, and he gets an extra pulse that oozes down the head of him.

He collapses into the bed, brain dead but satisfied. Lingering in the floating feeling, the heat and morning light.

When reality begins to creep back in, Shiro takes a deep breathe and turn his head to look at Keith.

And chuckles. The man is passed out, mouth a little slack around his fingers. He looks well-fucked, but cozy. So beautiful there’s no chance Shiro could look away, no chance anytime soon of him slinking away to the bathroom to clean up the mess.

He just wants to stay, wrapped up in the bed. Smelling of sex and Keith, his body practically buzzing with how good he feels.

Shiro is in _so much danger._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti* Guess what! I love the FWB and pretending there aren't feelings trope, so expect more!  
> Gotta finish this by the 11th, chapters will start getting beefy. 
> 
> Next time: Some talky, some touchy.


	28. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: nipple play

The rest of the day goes surprisingly normal. At some point Shiro does get up and shower, and then Keith uses the shower after. They’re both a little pink cheeked at breakfast, conversation stilted, but by the time they get to the gym the weirdness has faded.

They work in sync as they always have. Keith moves slow through an easy workout and Shiro splits his time between his own workout and monitoring Keith’s.

Before the other man can work up to frustration again with his tired body, Shiro suggests lunch.

They leave the facility and go to town. Shiro figures they need the air, and it doubles as a reason to skip the afternoon workout. Keith is already pushing himself too hard, but to say that to him is asking for trouble. Better to use distraction.

Although Shiro could have thought it through a little more. Keith hasn’t been cleared for operating heavy machinery, so him driving his hoverbike is a no go.

Shiro expects a fight when he suggests that Keith sit behind him for the drive to the town, and is surprised when Keith just shrugs and picks up his helmet. When Keith slides onto the bike behind Shiro and wraps his arms around Shiro’s waist, he feels like in some way he’s played himself.

It’s a completely inappropriate time for an erection. _Krolia with a knife,_ he plays it on rotation in his brain. It helps.

They get to town without accident, but Shiro doesn’t breathe fully until that heat is no longer pressed up against his back.

“So how’re you doing, really?” Keith asks when their lunch orders are in and the waitress has disappeared.

Shiro chokes on his water. Keith wants to talk about this morning _now_?!

He coughs, eyes watering at swallowing wrong and Keith looks vaguely concerned. “Uh,” Shiro coughs again. “I’m fine, good, how’re you doing?”

Keith frowns and hesitates, but then says, “All things considered, well. I’d love to be stronger faster, but I’m trying to be okay with it taking time.”

“What?” Shiro has the sense they are not talking about the same thing. His face must be telegraphing confusion because Keith picks it right up.

“My recovery? You asked?”

He was talking about— wasn’t asking Shiro about— “I’m sorry go back, you wanted to know how I’m doing…”

“About the divorce? The alien poisoning your best friend. It’s a lot and you haven’t really said much.”

“Oh.”

Keith’s eyebrows go up and then his eyes drop to the table. “You thought I was asking about this morning.”

“Yeah,” Shiro squeaks the answer out, more embarrassed now by drawing them into a conversation he was trying to avoid.

“Ah,” Keith traces the water trail from his drink on the table. “Well I assumed we’re fine. I was, um, totally comfortable with that. And you said you’d only participate if you were okay with it. So I wasn’t… uh, going to bring it up. Because we’re cool?”

“Yeah, yeah, completely.” Shiro says.

Keith lets out a loud breath of air. “Great. So anyway, the divorce?”

Shiro hasn’t done a ton of thinking on it, which maybe tells him the most about how he’s doing. Keith takes up more of his thoughts and he isn’t even mad about it. Sure he misses Curtis being around, but he misses Matt and Pidge and Hunk when they’re busy. He’s missed Lance since he’s been off-world.

“I still feel… guilty,” Shiro says. “Like I should have done more, tried harder. And I feel guilty that I don’t feel worse. I’m getting a divorce, and I just think, oh I need to put in a request for a new room. I’ll need time to pack up my stuff. It’s all wrong, I feel like I’m wrong.”

The waitress comes back with their sandwiches and there’s a break in the conversation.

“I just feel… fine and I think I shouldn’t.” Shiro finished when the woman leaves.

“You know,” Keith doesn’t touch his food yet, and avoids looking at Shiro. “I did wonder how it even happened. The wedding. The war ended and then all of a sudden you were in love with Curtis and you two were going to get married and, I remember just thinking, _what the hell is he doing?_ ”

This shocks Shiro. “What? You never said?”

“How could I have? You were _so happy_ Shiro," Keith says. "I love you and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. Sure it was fast, but sometimes love happens like that. Sometimes you just see a person and you _know._ So I thought it was crazy, but I never would have said anything. Who was I to jeopardize your happiness?”

Shiro can’t stand it, and reaches across the table to capture Keith’s hand. “Only my best friend, your opinion means the most to me.”

“And that’s the problem,” Keith sighs, turns his hand over to slot their palms together. “I didn’t want to be the reason you didn’t get your happily ever after.”

“You wouldn’t have been,” Shiro says, even though most of the reasons for his current situation do indeed point in Keith’s direction. Just not in the way he would think. And the very last thing Shiro wants is for Keith to hold that kind of weight.

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything about Trak?”

Shiro pulls away as if burned.

“No! Shit,” Keith leans forward, his face a plea. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t blame you, _at all!_ I just meant, I knew you didn’t like him the whole time, but not once did you ever say I should leave him.”

“I didn’t want to—“ Shiro starts and then stops.

“Yeah, you didn’t want me to be swayed by your opinion of him. I just meant it goes both ways. And I don’t blame you for not saying anything, as I’m sure you don’t blame me.”

“No, never.”

Keith’s hand curls to beckon him back. He leans forward and gives the other man his hand. Their fingers thread together seamlessly. “All that to say that maybe your divorce was always going to happen, and you’ve spared both of you a lot pain by ending it now. Maybe you don’t need to feel so guilty, and you can just forgive yourself for coming out of a war, out of mountains of trauma, and grabbing at the first good thing you could find. Maybe you could forgive yourself for wanting that comfort, even if it wasn’t built to last.”

Shiro smiles, meeting those violet eyes that are watching him so ardently now. Keith is so fierce and true when he talks like this, when he stands up for Shiro even against himself. It’s hard not to believe in what he’s saying.

“How did you get so wise?” Shiro asks, squeezing his hand.

Keith smiles. “Learned from the best.”

Shiro laughs, and releases Keith’s hand to pick up his napkin. “Flatterer.”

Keith hums and pops a French fry in his mouth. “I’m working an angle, maybe a few more compliments and I can get you to drive us to the canyons after lunch instead of back to the base.”

It takes absolutely nothing for Shiro to agree, but he puts on a faux thinking face as he eyes his sandwich. “Hmm, better make them good.”

##

They do spend the rest of the afternoon winding through the desert planes and valleys. Shiro gets used to the feeling of Keith behind him and lets it be what it’s always been. The two of them racing through rock and wind, a blitz of sand and sweat. Keith yells right in his ear as they plummet, as they zip around tight curves. His hands are clamped around Shiro’s waist and there’s something so different about riding this way. As fun as competition is, it’s nice to do it together.

As the sun begins to set, Shiro speeds them back toward the Garrison. He feels like they’ve finally crossed onto some path they’ve always meant to be on.

They may be damaged, haunted, but there’s something so comforting about being in it together. They don’t have the same trauma, the same issues, but they understand each other in a way no one else could. They support each other, believe the best of each other.

There’s no one else Shiro could confess to about how he doesn’t feel that bad about getting a divorce, and actually have them _understand_.

So maybe it’s this or the hoverbike ride, or just all the joy that comes with spending a day with his favorite person, but by the time they get back to Keith’s quarters Shiro is feeling better about everything. He may have to spent the rest of his life beating down his Keith-shaped emotions, but it’s an honor just to be around Keith. To have fought for him, kept him. As a friend. (With benefits?)

In honor of the crystal clean feeling inside him, Shiro showers first while Keith orders food. He manages to take his time, wrapping his hand around his cock when it rises to the memory of Keith’s laughter, his arms squeezing around Shiro at an abrupt turn.

The way he gasped and writhed in the bed while Shiro’s hand worked him over. The orgasm that results is sweet relief, he sighs it into the shower walls.

Keith takes his turn after to shower, as Shiro eats the leftover pizza. He tries to keep his mind off the _later_. Off the _in bed_. Off the _will Keith ask for it again?_

It’s near impossible, so he grabs his tablet and reads through the backlog of work emails while Keith finishes.

After, they watch a few dumb videos from the internet until Keith starts yawning from exhaustion. He’s always tired early from healing.

Shiro suggests an early bed time. 

Try as he might, Shiro’s nerves are shot. As he climbs into bed sleep is the farthest thing from his mind. Keith gets the lights and then takes his normal spot. Shiro can feel his warmth, the near dip of the mattress.

He wants to touch him so bad, but he won’t, not unless Keith asks.

It feels like an age in the dark. Like maybe Shiro is doomed to spend the whole night stark awake and half hard.

Then the body next to him rolls onto his side. “Shiro, you awake?”

Shiro nearly bites his lip not to jump the answer. “Yeah.”

There’s an audible breath. “Do you think we could…?”

Shiro turns his head to try and see Keith in the dark. There’s only the slightest of contrast between his hair and skin. “Could?”

Keith makes a noise of dissent, and then there’s a hand under the blankets reaching into his space, grabbing his arm. “Don’t play stupid,” Keith grumbles, and drags Shiro’s hand over to his stomach.

It’s such a Keith thing to do that Shiro can’t help the puff of laughter. “Sorry,” he says, feeling the fabric of Keith’s sleep shirt, “didn’t want to assume.”

“Uh huh,” Keith says, his tone says he’s not buying Shiro’s bullshit at all.

So Shiro, in retaliation, doesn’t go down but up. Flesh hand caressing the warm fabric, mapping out Keith’s chest. He pauses at the peak of a nipple, the startled sound from Keith.

He runs his thumb over it again just to hear that sweet noise a second time.

“This okay?”

“Need—“ Keith reaches and grabs his metal arm, bringing fingers to his mouth.

“Of course,” Shiro says, breathless. The heat of his mouth is so much more intense through the cooler prosthetic. The fingers wider, just two of them filling Keith’s mouth.

 He runs his human finger over the nipple again.

The result is instantaneous. Keith’s body arches toward Shiro, as if on offer, and he sucks on the metal fingers. Shiro feels a hardness press into his thigh, grind against him.

Shiro curses. Keith is so— so—

He has to take control of this or he’s going to totally lose it and do something stupid like try to kiss him.

So he starts pushing his fingers in and out of Keith’s mouth. Moving in a slow, steady rhythm that has the other man rumbling, eyes closed in pleasure.

It’s… hard to look directly at.

Instead he drops his eyes to Keith’s chest. To the two peaks of his shirt.

He should just reach down further and take Keith’s cock in hand, but he doesn’t want to rush it. If this is what he can have, he wants to savor it. Wants to lavish Keith’s body in soft pleasure, the kind he deserves. The kind he’s sure _that Galra_ did not provide.

Shiro will show Keith how much better—

His fingers pluck at the nipple, causing Keith to cry out, muffled. Over and over as he tweaks it, rubs it, pulls at it. Gets every variety of sound he can out of Keith’s occupied mouth.

Then Shiro moves to the other. He teases a wide circle around, barely skimming. When Keith arches toward him with a plea, he keeps the same pressure, makes tightening concentric circles. Not giving Keith what he wants yet. Just teasing.

Because he’s so beautiful like this. Eyes closed, mouth full, whining. It’s better than any wet dream.

Shiro can tell when he finally touches the edge of his nipple because Keith practically shrieks and his cock grinds hard into Shiro’s thigh.

“You’re so sensitive,” Shiro says in awe. Then, after a circle or two, his own patience crumbles. Slowly he drags his fingertip soft and barely-there across the peak of the nipple.

Keith writhes like he’s been shocked, whining high around the fingers, sucking at them hard. Still, Shiro maintains the pace, tries not to think of it as _fucking Keith’s mouth_.

There’s wetness on his thigh, on the fabric of Keith’s underwear. Did he…?

Shiro hazards a look. No, just precome, just Keith’s cock peaking through the hole in his boxers, red and aching for attention.

Shiro watches it thrust against the bare skin of his thigh. He has a vivid fantasy then of pushing Keith onto his back, pulling his own cock out and thrusting the heads together. Dipping his tongue into Keith’s mouth as they rut against each other, as they come together in a sloppy mess.

But Shiro can’t do that. It’s too close, too dangerous. If he kisses Keith he knows it’ll all come tumbling out, all the words and feelings he’s avoided even naming in his own head.

So instead he gives the bud between his fingers a gentle pinch and then reaches down and captures that cock in hand. Tightens his fist around it as Keith goes wild.

“That’s it,” Shiro croons. He matches up the motions of both hands, staying slow so Keith can feel everything.

Still he aches to put his mouth on the man. There’s a stretch of throat on offer as Keith moves with him. It’s pale and unblemished, looks like it would taste amazing.

He pulls his fingers almost all the way out of Keith’s mouth, his other hand just around the cockhead.

Then he plunges both down, slow but unstoppable. Keith groans, his cock pulsing in Shiro’s hand. Maybe next time Shiro could blow him. Maybe with his mouth full he could avoid saying anything damaging.

And he could find out what Keith tastes like. _Fucking hell he wants it._

But right now he needs to focus. There’s a thousand fantasies spinning out in his brain from the way Keith is moaning and moving. From the image of his slick head popping through Shiro’s fist.

It’s messy and so _fucking hot,_ but he needs to focus. This is for Keith and he needs to deliver.

“Come on,” Shiro coaches when Keith makes another needful sound. “Just let it— let me—“

Everything about Keith’s body language says he wants Shiro to speed up, but he won’t. He can’t. He needs to take Keith apart like this. To see him fall apart from the gentle ministrations of his hands.

Shiro leans in, nearer to Keith’s ear and absolutely nothing else. “Let me,” he whispers, tightening his fist just a little. “Let me make you come.”

And Keith does. With a wail, a hard jerk of his hips, his cock fucks into Shiro’s hand. Pulse after pulse he smears the come all over as he rides out his pleasure, sucking hard on Shiro’s other fingers.

Best of all, this time Shiro gets to see it. Dark as it is his eyes have adjusted and can can see that messy cockhead, how it blurts Keith’s spend into his hand.

Just like before he can’t stand it. The second Keith stills Shiro shoves down his own underwear, wraps his dripping hand around himself. The muscles are aching but that doesn’t matter when his cock is hard and weeping and _right next to Keith’s._ He has just enough time to stroke himself a handful of times and realize that if he comes right now, it’ll be all over Keith.

And then it is. Pleasure is hitting him straight across the head, his fist moving fast on his own cock and spurting come on Keith’s softening cock, his stomach, his shirt. Shiro has no control because the image of it is so good, the orgasm so tremendous. He curses and lets it ruin him. Lets it work down to just dribbles.

Beside him Keith makes a pleased sound around his fingers. Shiro breathes and breathes and breathes. He lets himself lie in the bliss as his body calms back down, before he has to get up the clean himself.

Keith’s breathing is already trending toward sleep. Shiro should clean him as well.

Fucking hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pine my pretties, pine!
> 
> Next time: sparring redux, this time with Shiro.


	29. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags.

Keith’s in the bathroom when Shiro wakes up. He tells himself he’s not disappointed by that. That he’s not wishing this morning was a repeat of the previous.

He washed them both with a cloth before crashing, but he still smells the sex. Or maybe it’s just in his head.

His cock’s half hard though, so it’s probably just the libido. There will be no rest for him if he starts thinking sentences like, _our bedroom smells like sex._

Shiro makes himself get up and start coffee.

##

This morning Keith is alight with energy and when they get to the gym he wants to spar. Shiro’s still stretching, but tries to think of a good excuse to avoid it. There’s no way he can get in close quarters with Keith right now and not get an erection. And while they’re mostly alone in the gym, it’s still a public space.

The absolute last thing he needs is for someone to walk in on them in a compromising position. For word to get back to Curtis.

They may be exes, but he wants to respect his former husband more than that. He absolutely does not deserve to hear through the rumor mill that Shiro was grinding on Keith the second their marriage was over.

Because that’s not what they’re doing. Absolutely not.

Fuck.

“I don’t know,” Shiro says. “Maybe it would be best to stick to the recommended workouts?”

Keith is twisting his spine. Pressing on one elbow and then the other to limber up. “But they’re so boring!”

“And safe,” Shiro adds.

Keith huffs. “Since when are you the safety patrol?”

“Since my best friend just got out of a coma.” Shiro gives him a pointed look.

“That was like… over a week ago.”

Shiro finishes his stretches. “Do you even hear yourself sometimes?”

But now Keith’s downcast, walking across the mat toward him. “C’mon Shiro, don’t treat me like I’m broken.”

“You’re not—!” And the Shiro catches the sneaky grin cracking across Keith’s face. “You little shit, that’s playing dirty.”

Keith laughs and takes up his defensive stance. “Nah, you’ll know when I’m playing dirty,” Keith taunts.

Then he rushes at Shiro.

Shiro barely has time to blink before he’s blocking, evading. Keith’s not at top form, but that hardly makes him an easy opponent.

So they spar, chasing and flipping and striking at each other. Mostly they’re pulling their hits, play fighting and laughing as they try to pin each other down.

Keith’s radiant as he pings around Shiro, tries to get in his blind spot, slips out of Shiro’s grip. They come together and it’s more sliding against one another than violence. Keith taps his neck to indicate a crushing hit in a different circumstance, Shiro returns the favor digging his wiggling fingers into Keith’s belly. The man laughs, ticklish, and leaps away.

But eventually Keith’s strength wanes and Shiro is still hot from all the teasing. He catches Keith's next punch and maneuvers him down to the mat. Pins his arms and legs with his own. Grins victorious and proud.

Until he looks at Keith. Beneath him sweaty and eyes half blown out. His shirt is stuck to him, highlighting the lines of his stomach, his peaked nipples. Keith's mouth opens to pant and it looks…

“Shiro,” Keith whines.

It looks like he _wants it._

“Please.”

The plea hits Shiro low and electric. His eyes dart up to the gym. They’re still alone but there’s no telling how long that’ll last.

“Privacy,” Shiro croaks, stumbling up and pulling Keith with him.

He doesn’t look back, can’t with how his cock is already pressing against the front of his compression shorts. Shiro just drags Keith back into the locker room and then to the bathroom stalls. It’s the only place he can think of that has a modicum of privacy.

He pushes Keith into the biggest stall and then turns to lock the door. Maybe he can go down on Keith this time, maybe he can—

But before that thought can even convalesce, he’s being forcibly turned and shoved against the stall door.

Before him, Keith drops to his knees.

“I need,” his hand reach for the waistband of Shiro’s shorts. He looks wild, like the dirtiest of dreams Shiro keeps having. He almost pinches himself to prove he’s not sleeping.

Then his shorts are sliding down, baring his cock. His very hard cock.

And Shiro would be lying if he said he’s never considered they would get here. Keith’s coping mechanism has been _oral fixation._ It’s incredibly hard not to imagine what, other than fingers, he could be sucking on.

But Shiro never would have said it. Never would have suggested it. It was nearly too much even as a thought and—

The visual is worse (better).

Shiro clutches at the smooth wall of the stall as those slender fingers encircle him. As they tilt his cock down to those beautiful pink lips.

 _Stars help him,_ he’s definitely not going to last.

“Keith,” he breathes, as the head of his cock slides a path across those lips.

And then it’s all hot and wet and Shiro is cursing, moaning, shoving his human hand to his mouth to bite down and stifle the noises.

Because Keith doesn’t start slow. Doesn’t start like amateur. Immediately he swallows Shiro all the way down, lips to the base, the head of his cock— _Jesus Christ it really can’t be can it?!_

But it is. It is, because Keith swallows around him and _his cock is in Keith’s throat._

Keith is deep throating him. Like it’s no big deal. Like he loves it.

Shiro is going to pass out. The pleasure is swamping him already, it feels incredible. It’s been— actually Shiro doesn’t think he’s ever had anyone take him so deep. He’s a mouthful, plus some, and as a gentleman he’d never ask—

But it’s not a problem for Keith. Keith leans back and then sucks him down again. The tightness of his throat is something else. It has his cock nearly weeping. He bites harder on his own hand.

Then Keith starts up a rhythm and it devastates the rest of Shiro’s self control. His hips move in tiny jerks without his approval, metal hand moving to rest in Keith’s hair. To feel the motion of Keith working him over.

He wants it to go on forever but he knows it can’t. Keith is just too good at this, can do things with a cock that should be illegal.

And he’s doing it to Shiro.

Shiro opens his eyes and looks down again. Can’t remember when he closed them but he knows he’s nearing the edge now and he has to see him. Has to look at Keith. Beautiful, amazing, smoking-fucking-hot Keith on his knees, sucking his cock like it’s the only things he wants. It's an image he'll never get over. 

“Keith I’m—“ Shiro pulls his hand away to stutter it, but instead of pulling back, the warning only makes Keith work harder. His cock is practically wedged in Keith’s throat, the swallowing teasing him to finish as Keith’s mouth drips saliva and precome. Does he want...?

_Fuck, fuck, fuck-- !_

And then those eyes look up at him as if pleading for it, and Shiro's done for.

His hand tightens in Keith’s hair to move the man as he begins to come. He ruts his cockhead in deep, groaning as the swallows around him encourage pulse after pulse. It’s… there aren’t words. Hot. Tight. Fucking amazing.

As the orgasm slows, he pumps his cock in and out in tiny motions. Watches, mesmerized, as the swollen lips part around his cockhead, as the come Keith couldn’t swallow fast enough begins to drip down the corner of his mouth. He plays this way until the over sensitivity becomes too much.

Then he eases his cock out and just looks at it, fat and slick and so obscene there next to Keith’s face.

Dazed, he forgets himself. Rubs the tip against those lips again, wincing at the nerves. Still he traces the shape of Keith's mouth, delights in the returned pleased rumble. It’s perfect, he’s perfect.

And then reality begins to filter back in.

Keith, on his knees. His bare cock. He just fucked Keith’s mouth. And that’s— this is supposed to be for Keith!

“Shit,” Shiro yanks up his shorts and then reaches for Keith. The man is wobbly on his feet, leaning into Shiro’s chest. “Keith I’m so sorry! That was suppose—“

A hand over his mouth hushes him. “S’fine. Wha’ I wanted,” Keith says. His throat is rough.

“But you…” Shiro says through the fingers.

Clumsily, Keith finds his human hand and pulls it down. He presses it over his crotch.

Which is wet. Soaked.

Shiro’s brain revolves blankly around this idea. Did he…?

“Sleepy,” Keith coos into his neck. Shiro wraps his arms around Keith to keep him supported.

He needs to get them back to Keith’s without being noticed. Likely he will need to carry Keith.

Those are pressing, logistical issues to handle.

But Shiro’s brain is stuck on one thing: _did Keith really just come from sucking his cock?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let Keith suck cock!!!
> 
> We're over 50k words!! Showers of adoration to commenters and kudos. Special shoutout to you frequent commenters and tag-followers, ya'll truly keep me so excited to update this.
> 
> Next time: We take a break from the spicy for some sweet, sweet comfort.


	30. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags.

 “I’m sorry I’m like this,” Keith says that night when they’re in bed. They haven’t talked about the blowjob. Keith had come around and walked back under his own weight and gone straight for a nap. Shiro had taken a long shower, indulging in replaying the memory over and over until it was seared into his brain.

Then they’d spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out with Hunk because it had been his day off.

“Hey,” Shiro reaches across the space now to cup Keith’s cheek, to slide his fingers into that silky hair. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Keith snorts. “Uh huh.”

“Seriously.”

“So you just have guys drop at your feet and blow you at the slightest impulse.”

“Well…” Shiro drawls.

“Shiro!”

Shiro laughs and tugs Keith in, pressing their foreheads together for a moment. “I kid. But it’s fine Keith. Really. Maybe it escaped your notice at the time, but I had absolutely no complaints about receiving a top notch blowjob.”

It’s too dark to see if this induces a blush, but by the way Keith scoffs and sort of hunches his body a little inwards, shy, Shiro would put money on it. “Top notch?” He asks quietly.

Shiro grins. “The highest of marks.”

Keith hums happily. “Thanks, _sir_.”

Keith says it mostly as a joke, but it hits Shiro. Hits him straight across the head and sends him spiraling.

_Sir._

That’s, uh. He’s not—

This is a bad time to discover a new kink.

Shiro clears his throat. “Yeah,” And then his brain refocuses on the topic at hand. Keith. His insecurities. His judgements about the _very_ consensual sex they’ve been having. “So, and I said this before but I’ll say it as many times as it takes, I’m here for you, and you can ask me for anything. We’re in this together.”

“And it’s not weird?”

Shiro strokes his hair, tucking it back behind one ear. They’re still close, so close as to be sharing breath. “Well I have a robot semi-floating arm, and you’re half alien, so it’s always going to be a _little weird.”_

Keith flicks him in the chest. “You’re such an idiot.”

_But I’m your idiot,_ Shiro almost says. Because he is. Because with every moment he’s falling deeper for this radiant creature in his arms, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever stop. How he’ll get on with his day to day life when Krolia returns with the news of a successful mission.

Sleeping in his own bed is going to be a nightmare.

“Shiro?” Keith whispers after the silence has settled thick once more.

“Hm?” Shiro is just beginning to drift, cozy and warm pressed up against Keith.

“Thank you. For everything. You make me feel safe.”

Instantly Shiro’s arms are curling around him, squeezing him as tight as the fizzling of softness in his own chest. _Stars, this man._

“You too,” Shiro mumbles through the emotion. “You make me safe too.”

They fall asleep hopelessly tangled, and Shiro’s heart is fit to burst.

##

A gasping, horrendous cry drags Shiro up out of sleep. In a second he’s on his feet, wide awake, scanning the room for danger.

But there’s nothing. A dark room, their bed, and Keith now sitting up and breathing hard, expression pinched.

It’s early morning based on the lighting.

“Keith?”

“Sorry,” the man takes a deliberate breath. “Nightmare.”

A little more than that by his body language. Shiro gets back into bed, scooting over into Keith’s space. He doesn’t touch automatically, just opens his arms. “Wanna talk about it?”

Keith all but falls into him, hiding his face in Shiro’s neck. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Shiro rubs his back gently. He’s well versed in nightmares, in PTSD and trauma. He knows how it feels to wake someone up with it, to not want to share.

For Shiro, more often than not he didn’t want to share because his partner wouldn’t _get it_. Couldn’t possibly relate to his worst war fears, the triggers that sent him spiraling into his darkest brainspace. The ache and total terror of losing friends, of being mind controlled and almost killing—

So he puts this to words. As Keith works at regulating and deescalating his body, Shiro talks. He tells Keith how awful his nightmares used to be, how bad sometimes they still are. How lonely it felt not to even have the option to share, to have someone relate as awful as that was. How much guilt and shame he felt at not being _better,_ at not getting over his trauma _faster._

“And now?” Keith mumbles when he finishes.

“Better, but I’ll never be who I was. I’ll always carry these scars with me,” he squeezes Keith with his metal arm. “But I’ve learned some on how to make them mine, to strip away the spines so the memories, when they come, are not as sharp. It’s not perfect, but that’s okay. My friends still love me just the way I am.”

Keith makes a sound of agreement and hugs him tightly back. “I’m fine most of the time. It’s just—“ he huffs frustratedly and bumps his head against Shiro’s shoulder.

“It would be okay if you were fine none of the time,” Shiro cards a hand through his tangled hair. “You’d still be Keith, you’d still be my best friend.”

The sigh Keith gives then feels like a win. The body in his arm relaxes. “I feel like I just keep thanking you.”

Shiro smiles, presses his face into that dark hair. “I know it’s ridiculous, you should really stop.”

He gets a flick on his ear for that. “Idiot.”

Shiro hums, pleased.

“Okay, I think I’m ready to go back to sleep now.” Keith says after a moment of silence.

They don’t move far from each other as they settle back into the bed. Keith takes up his fingers with a questionable look, and when Shiro smiles at him, he dips one into his mouth.

And maybe it’s the situation or the fact that they’re having regular sex, but this time it doesn’t spike his body to have a crisis. He just feels happy to help, protective.

Warm.

They fall back asleep like that.

##

 They spend another morning in the gym, individual workouts so they don’t get sidetracked, and then go to Shiro’s apartment. He wants some fresh clothing, his earbuds, and the… lube in his bedside table drawer.

He doesn’t mention that last one to Keith. He doesn’t want to seen as though he’s anticipating anything.

But he’d like to be prepared. In case Keith isn’t.

Uh, if it comes to that.

But thoughts of anything else he should grab while he’s there don’t prepare him for seeing the apartment again. It’s empty, Curtis is still gone, and when they walk in the air has a stale smell.

Should he start working on moving out, or would it be offensive to do so without talking to Curtis?

Shiro’s thought about messaging him no less than a hundred and fifty times. To apologize, to wish him well, to start the logistic process of splitting their assets.

But every time he stops himself. Curtis _left,_ and Curtis deserves that time without Shiro trying to interject. Shiro trusts what when the man is ready, he will reach out.

Still, passing through their living room makes him itch to do something. He hates this entombed monument to a failed relationship. Every inch of it packed with good and bad memories. Every inch of it temporary and crumbling.

He’s a big advocate of patience, but in this case he wishes he could do something about it sooner rather than later. This hadn’t been a problem with Adam, he had just left after that. Been too busy to contemplate the loss.

Keith waits in the living room, which Shiro is grateful for. He doesn’t want to bring Keith into his bedroom, to see the bed he shared with another man. Keith likely wouldn’t think anything of it, but Shiro feels like it would be disrespectful.

To both Keith and Curtis.

He finds an old duffle in the closet and packs as much clothing as will fit. He finds the ear buds under the pillow, the lube, and an old pack of condoms.

He stuffs it all into the bag and zips it shut. Tries to shake the weird mood being in this room is giving him.

“Ready?” Keith asks when he returns to the living room.

Shiro shrugs, gestures to the door. They go back to Keith’s.

There's a late lunch, a walk around the Garrison, and some badly needed cleaning of Keith’s apartment. Shiro tries to focus on the tasks at hand but his concentration just keeps slipping. He keeps thinking about that apartment, about endings, about how his life is always becoming so radically different than what he thought it was going to be.

Finally, after dinner, Keith asks.

“It’s… hard to explain.”

They’re seated on the couch, some rerun playing on the television. Keith turns more to face him. “Yeah?”

“I’m okay that the marriage is over. I wasn’t my best self with Curtis, and the more I think about that, the more I understand how right he was, everything he said. I love him but it’s not… it’s not what it should be. But our apartment? I don’t know, it just struck me. I thought that was forever, but soon that place will stop existing. Everything we had will be in the past. And then I just think about how so many things have slipped by me. Every time I think I know where my life is going it just changes. I… “ Shiro’s throat catches all of a sudden and his eyes begin to burn. “I think I’m afraid of what else I could lose. What else I might want, get comfortable in, make a part of my life, and then have it torn away.”

Keith’s fingers crawl over to take his. “I think that feeling makes a lot of sense.”

There’s a staggering breath as Shiro tries not to completely break down. “I just… the things I have left… they’re the best. And what if— what if—“

“No,” Keith says, stern and forceful. He inches right up against Shiro to bump his shoulder. “If you mean us paladins? We aren’t going anywhere. If any of them try to leave or die on me I will personally find them in whatever ether they’re hiding and drag them back here.”

Shiro chuckles, wipes his eyes of the bleary film. “I believe you.”

“Damn right. You should.” And then he deflates a little. “But in all seriousness, Shiro, it was a war before. We lost a lot because it was a war. The loss of your marriage is separate, that one goes in the _some things don’t work out_ box. I think… I mean I understand what you’re saying. I used to think that way about not fitting in. That I was always going to be some ill fit thing around everyone else, and I wouldn’t know why. But that was because I didn’t have all the information. And maybe that’s what it’s like for you too. Maybe this relationship had to fail so you could find where you’re meant to be. So you could be available to get some new information.”

Shiro almost laughs with how close Keith nails it. Because wasn’t that the truth of it? He had to almost lose Keith, and actually lose Curtis to see what had been in front of him the whole time.

“And it’ll always be scary,” Keith continues. “I have a whole family, a community, I have so many people I love now, and it’s so much fear. I’m always afraid I’ll lose them. But that’s what life is right? We do the things that bring us joy even if they scare us. We lose and we pick ourselves up, we—“

Shiro throws his arms around Keith and drags him in.

“Oh!” Keith squeaks.

“Thank you,” Shiro says into his hair. Then a beat later, “See? This time it’s my turn.”

Keith hums and hugs him back. “A pair of idiots,” he says.

Shiro couldn’t agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a chapter count! *plays the final countdown music*
> 
> Next time: Shiro's fingers catch at the waistband. “My turn this time, right?”


	31. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags

“Shhh…” a sleepy rumble eases Shiro awake. He can feel the movement, the heat of Keith’s body shifting just a little against his.

He could wake this way a hundred thousand mornings and it wouldn’t get old. Blinking his eyes open to the morning light, his hands wander down to Keith’s hips.

“Hm?” He says, holding and stopping those hips as they seek to grind against his.

Keith whines, but his eyes stay closed. “Need.”

That’s apparent by the hard on. And Shiro knows just how he wants to take care of it.

He ducks down under the covers, rolling Keith onto his back at the same time. His fingers catch at the waistband. “My turn this time right?”

There’s a catch of breath, a hand tentatively touching his hair.

Shiro leans into it for a second and then works at the prize in front of him, sliding down Keith’s underwear, breathing in his masculine, sweaty smell.

The comforter pushes down a little for light and fresh air and finally, finally Shiro gets a proper look. A slight curve, uncut, and yes a little purple in the right light. Nothing that looks inhuman unless you were specifically looking. And this close.

He’s gorgeous and Shiro has to get his mouth on him.

With his human hand he tips Keith’s cock down to him. Above there’s a breathy sound. A pearl of fluid oozes just in front of him. Shiro gives it a little lick just to taste.

Keith groans and his heel jerks, kicking into Shiro’s ribs.

“Sorry,” Keith gasps.

Shiro hums, putting his lips to the base of Keith’s cock and looking up where Keith’s propped himself up so he can see. “It’s okay,” Shiro says, meeting his eyes and speaking the words right into that sensitive skin.”

_“Fuck,_ ” Keith says, and plops back onto the bed.

Shiro smirks, almost laughs. “Maybe next time.”

And then he begins, starting by mapping Keith with his mouth.

He licks and sucks down to Keith’s balls, listening to the noises he makes for what works and what doesn’t. He likes Shiro running a finger up his perineum, and alternating light sucks at his balls. The grazing of teeth make him startle, and he tenses when Shiro’s finger strays too far back toward his hole.

So he works slow, dedicates himself to the worship. Lets it take an age to move inches. Keith tastes manly, but there’s are hints of his soap, of that lilac. Or maybe that’s just Shiro’s punch drunk brain. Either way he can’t get enough, sucking a love bite into the crease of his thigh.

“Shiro!” The sounds above him are getting louder, the hand in his hair more insistent. But Shiro won’t be rushed, he wants to remember every little thing.

And it’s wild fun to tease Keith, to ever so slowly amp him toward an orgasm.

“Yes?” Shiro says, kissing his inner thigh, caressing his fingers through the hair around his cock.

“Get on with it,” Keith growls, hitching his hips up suggestively. His cock bobs, taps his hand.

“Get on with what?” He eyes that cock, gone a deeper red-purple with Shiro’s work. There’s a distinct wetness dripping down one side.

“Don’t play dumb!” That heel hits his ribs again, this time purposefully.

At this Shiro pulls his mouth off Keith’s skin to stare at him with his best Confused Puppy look. “Maybe if you were more specific…”

Keith groans, squirming in his grip. “Shiroooo.”

Shiro mouths back up to the base of his cock, licking around it open mouthed. “Hm?”

Keith makes a sound of agony, his hips coming up again, the hand in Shiro’s hair tightening. Shiro pushes the hips back down into the bed.

Keith bites his other fist, his fingers at his own mouth.

“Tell me what you want,” Shiro swallows his own saliva, hungry for it but dedicated to waiting this out. He just wants to _hear it_ so badly.

He runs his flesh hand up the underside of Keith’s cock, stopping just under the head where he’s so sensitive. He rubs there to get a moan, a gasp, that fist coming away from Keith’s mouth to clasp tight at the bedding.

“Please, please suck me—“ he breaks beautifully. “Fuck, I need— your mouth— Shiro, _please_!”

That’s about all Shiro can stand. Quick as anything he tilts that cock to him and swallows it.

There’s a sound that lights electricity up and down Shiro’s spine. Both Keith’s hands are in his hair.

“Fuck, fuck, _so good, feels so—“_

Shiro goes down as far as he can. It’s not as impressive as Keith, it’s been a second since he’s done this, but from the way Keith sounds it’s not an issue.

Still, Shiro is still dedicated to bringing his best. He wants to be the best for Keith. Wants to erase everything that came before him. Give Keith what he deserves.

So he takes him deep in slow sucks that make his eyes water but have Keith making this kittenish sound. Like he can’t control himself.

He loves to have him in his mouth. Heavy and warm and a little bitter. He can feel when Keith’s cock pulses, when the wetness at the tip drips salty on his tongue.

It’s slow, just as everything else has been, but this time Keith seems to be on board with it. His hips still try to move and his hands occasionally tug, but Shiro can tell the difference. How pliant Keith is beneath him, willing to have whatever Shiro wants to give him.

His own cock grinds down into the bed and he groans.

“Shiro, sh—“ Keith tugs a little with one hand, his voice going up an octave. All at once Shiro can feel the tension, the wave of Keith’s body winding up.

So he doesn’t stop, maintains that agonizing slowness. At the same time he reaches a hand down to fondle Keith’s balls, to rub at his perineum. Coaxes Keith to the edge, learning his body all the while.

And then there’s a startled gasp, a tightening of those hands, and the cock in his mouth shoves in.

Shiro swallows past the gag reflex, so turned on he doesn’t care about the tears, the flare of pain in his throat. Doesn’t care about anything except Keith who is then coming, moaning, in his mouth.

It’s noticeably different from other men. Has a taste that Shiro can’t help but groan at as he swallows.

Keith is cursing and mumbling nonsense as his orgasm starts to slow. His body releasing into the bed. Shiro swallows once more and then eases the cock out of his mouth, careful not to overstimulate.

And then he remembers his own cock. The hot ache that’s smeared a spot into the sheets. On wobbly limbs he pushes himself up so he can flop over and get a hand on himself.

But the second he does, there’s a hand catching his. “Ah, ah,” Keith says, already pushing off the covers and moving down. “I think you forgot something.”

Shiro knows that this was for Keith, that he should stop him because he doesn’t need to—

But Shiro’s absolutely scatterbrained at Keith’s wicked smile. At the way he settles between Shiro’s legs and puts his cock to his lips.

It clicks then that Keith’s right. He did forget a crucial piece. Keith needs something in his mouth.

His cock slides right into Keith’s mouth in one easy flow. Shiro almost immediately comes. There’s something so dirty about this, about how Keith _wants_ this and _needs_ this. He shouldn’t like it. He shouldn’t.

But he just thinks of all the future ways it could be fun. Sparring in the gym to tease Keith with imprint of his cock against his compression shorts—  pulling Keith out of meetings just to give him a cock to suck on.

Because Keith gives blowjobs like an absolute god. It’s no time at all that Shiro is at the edge, heart hammering, lungs heaving. His cock is in Keith’s _throat._ He’ll never get over that.

He looks down as he starts to come.

Keith’s eyes are closed, his face relaxed as he sucks down Shiro’s come, as he swallows rhythmically around him.

He’s so beautiful. How many times a day does Shiro think that?

His orgasm is as stunning as they all have been. He sighs heavy when it finishes, his body jelly and satisfied.

And he’s supposed to get up and do a whole day after this?

Maybe he could somehow convince Keith to just stay here in bed.

It’s only when the glow begins to recede that Shiro even notices Keith is still down between his legs, his softening cock still in his mouth. “Keith?” He tries to move his hips back, to nudge Keith away. He knows how out of it Keith tends to be after they have sex.

But those eyes flicker open to look at him and he grunts. His hands hold tight to Shiro’s thighs. He’s out of it, definitely.

“Let me just—“ he tries to indicate his sensitive and almost all-soft cock. Keith can lay on him if he wants, but the blowjob portion is over.

There’s another sound of discontent. Then Keith starts to move, shuffling from between his legs to beside him. Then he tugs at Shiro’s hips.

Shiro rolls onto his side to face Keith without thinking about it.

And then, absurdly, Keith puts his cock back inside his mouth.

“Hey!” Shiro yelps when his nerves sting.

There’s no answer from the other man. He just settles in and closes his eyes as if he’s going to sleep.

With Shiro’s cock in his mouth.

It looks like Shiro’s daily crisis is coming early this morning. He takes a deep breath and then another.

Keith really is falling asleep it seems. Quiet and still. And this is okay, if Keith doesn't move Shiro’s cock can recover.

Inside his mouth.

Shiro’s so far from arousal right now, and yet the thought still does something to him. The visual does more.

Because Keith is just curled up against him, utterly at peace and gently holding him. It’s strange and appealing. Shiro is warm and secure in a way he’s never felt before. It sounds dumb even to himself that something like this should inspire the feelings of _safety_ and _comfort_ , and yet.

He yawns and reaches down to pet Keith’s hair.

There’s a gentle suckle in return. Shiro cringes at the sharp sensation. Already he can tell it’s lessening though, already he can feel himself getting a little hot at the concept.

He should nap, should just let himself enjoy the bliss of this strange new thing.

But then his bad brain chimes in: if he gets hard again will Keith just continue to hold him in his mouth? And would he continue to suckle at him in his sleep?

And if he was slow enough, could he just come like this? Keith in blissful rest, letting his mouth be used. Shiro curses quietly to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder there will be no noncon between our boys, but there will be a little more of Shiro's fantasy.
> 
> Next time: Keith breaks Shiro's brain three different ways.


	32. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags.

 Shiro can’t fall asleep after that, so he just lies there in agony. He tries to prevent himself getting hard again, but eventually his libido wins out.

It probably doesn’t help that he keeps peeking down to look. To memorize the view of Keith suckling on his cock.

But as hot as the fantasizes are, Shiro cannot do any of that. Keith consented to holding his cock, but hasn’t consented further. And he’s asleep, so Shiro would have to wake him to obtain consent.

And even then maybe it’s questionable. Presenting Keith with his already hard cock might be pressuring.

So Shiro lies there still as long as he can as his cock grows. Until it’s completely hard and he can no longer deny that it’s mostly just the tip sitting inside Keith’s slack mouth.

A tip that’s leaking tons of precome into Keith’s mouth because Shiro is _so fucking turned on_ about this situation.

He needs to get out of bed, go to the bathroom, and take care of it. It’s beginning to be painful teasing himself. Holding himself utterly still.

He’s definitely hyper focusing on the hot breath, the micro movements Keith makes around him.

Shiro wishes this were a real relationship, that he could talk to Keith about this. Negotiate it for prior consent.

Because wow, there’s kinks and then there’s _kinks._ And Shiro had no idea he was into this thing until right about now.

Finally there’s nothing for it, he pulls back to pop the head of his cock out of Keith’s mouth. It’s wet, positively dripping, and red. It’s right there beside Keith’s lovely, sleeping face. The lips are still parted as if to welcome him back.

It would be easy to just slide back in. To fuck into that slack mouth. Fill it with his come.

Shiro gets up off the bed, goes to the bathroom, and gets a fist on himself. He re-imagines it where Keith has consented previously, where Keith would find it hot to wake up and find his mouth used, Shiro’s come dripping off his face.

His orgasm doesn’t take long at all.

##

“I think it’s helping,” Keith says after lunch when they’ve gone for a walk through the Garrison.

“What?”

Keith shrugs. “All of it. I didn’t feel as tired after reps, and uh— after this morning…” Keith waits for two cadets to pass. Shiro leads them further away from the main walkways. “I don’t know, I feel more in control? I felt more in control.”

“That’s good,” Shiro says. He's been doing a lot of mental gymnastics to _not_ think about this morning and get an erection in public.

“Yeah,” Keith nods. “So maybe soon you won’t have to be my shadow, and we can get back to living normal lives.”

And that—

It’s good news. _It is_. Keith is feeling stronger, empowered. He’s feeling like his old life is possible. Even just the way he talks about it is a shift from his previous flat-denial that the assault affected him.

But it spikes a terror in Shiro’s heart. Does it also mean an end to their… intimacies? Is that what Keith’s trying to say?

“Oh,” Shiro says. And then peps himself up because he sounds like a dumped boyfriend and he’s _not._ “That’s great! I’m glad you’re feeling stronger.”

Keith’s slows beside him, his voice is off. “Yeah.” There’s an awkward beat. Another. "It is great," but his tone does not agree suddenly.

They’ve fallen off the track somewhere but Shiro doesn’t know how. He should ask Keith if he needs space, if that’s what he’s saying, but he’s suddenly paralyzed by what the answer could be.

“I mean,” Keith clears his throat. When Shiro turns his head to try and catch his expression he’s looking away, out past the fencing on the edge of the Garrison grounds. “It would be fine today even. If you need a break.”

“What?”

Keith continues to look away. “I could go hang out with Kolivan, you could, I dunno, do whatever.”

It’s slipping, the conversation. Keith. From him. “Is that what you want?”

They’ve both stopped walking now, but Keith still won’t face him. Shiro doesn’t know if he should touch, if he should ask.

Then Keith sighs. “Is that what _you_ want?”

“No,” Shiro blurts. It’s painful, this bluntness, the forthcoming honestly, but it has yet to fail him. Especially when it comes to Keith. “I don’t need or want a break. From you. Unless that’s what you want. Do you need space?”

Finally, finally, Keith turns. His face is almost all the way blank except for the line between his brows.

“I think… I should.” Keith says, slowly as if considering each word. “But I don’t. I feel…” Keith reaches up and tugs at his hair. “Frustrated,” he growls.

It’s a stilted back and forth after that. Keith can’t seem to get the words out no matter where Shiro prods, and it just ends up a more tangled matter than when they started.

What Shiro takes from it is that there is something frustrating Keith, but he can’t yet articulate it. And he doesn’t want Shiro to go anywhere.

It’s messier and more unfinished than most of their talks, but Shiro can work with that. They’re not ~~breaking up~~   going their separate way yet.

##

The nerves come back that evening when they’re getting ready for bed. Keith explicitly said he didn’t want space from Shiro, but Shiro is still anticipating it. Any minute he’s sure Keith will suggest he take the couch, or just roll over with his back to Shiro and go to sleep.

And it’s not even the sex really that Shiro’s heart is having a fit over. It’s being able to hold Keith, to cuddle up with him and fall asleep. He’s so painfully aware their bedsharing has an expiration date, and it kills him. Because these have been some of the best mornings of his life, and he had no idea, no idea it could be this way.

But they settle into bed in their normal spots and Keith gets the light.

Shiro closes his eyes and tries not to think about it. Tries not to reach out and gather Keith up.

It was so easy a day ago and now he feels misaligned. Like he has no right to touch him.

“Shiro?” Keith says.

“Yeah?” This is just how all their other bedtime romps have gone, but this time feels different.

“How come we haven’t had sex?”

Shiro almost sits up, his shock is so sudden. “What?!”

Keith just repeats the question.

“Uh, Keith we definitely have been…” Shiro says, because it’s literally the only thing his brain comes up with. Unless he's totally lost it, Shiro's very certain they've been having tons and tons of sex.

Keith makes a sound that always comes with an eye roll. If only it weren’t so dark. “I mean sex-sex. You know, properly.”

He means _penetratively._

Shiro starts to sweat.

“Uh,” he says, because confessing to grabbing his lube for just such an occasion feels like poor taste in this particular moment. “Well it’s more… time consuming and difficult. And uh… you didn’t need that.”

Shiro pats himself on the back for his answer even though his brain is screaming a thousand things at him suddenly.

Keith makes a sound as if considering these points. “Yeah I guess that’s true.” He says.

Shiro breathes a sigh of relief.

“But now I think we should. I think you should fuck me.”

_Holy shit!_

There are absolutely _dozens_ of reasons Shiro should deny him. Chief of all that being anywhere near Keith’s lips has started to give him an untenable urge to kiss them. But maybe he could turn Keith around so his face wouldn’t be right there tempting him. Maybe he could hold it together. Maybe he could-

“Oh?” He says.

“I think it would be good to just… see that everything’s okay. That there’s no triggers or anything.”

Shiro’s mouth betrays him by making a noise of assent.

“Cool.”

There’s a beat and then, “Now?” Shiro asks. He doesn’t even know what he wants the answer to be.

Keith hums and a hand slithers over his chest, reaching for his cock.

“Nah, just a quicky tonight, I’m tired.”

Already Shiro is rolling to face him, to line their hips up. Easily both their cocks come out, wrapped between one of Keith’s and one of Shiro’s hands.

It’s blessedly distracting. From the fact that Shiro didn’t rebuff the idea, that he’s incapable of saying no to Keith, that even this quick handjob between them is making his heart flutter.

He has to pinch his eyes closed so he won’t see Keith’s face just before him, won’t be tempted to pull him in and kiss him into the mattress. He gets close to the edge, their cocks making slick, hot noises between their hands, and Shiro gasps.

As he comes he can still hear Keith’s voice, taunting him to the edge of an undefined cliff.

_I think you should fuck me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith: Wow everything's so great that I must self sabotage by telling you to leave and then get frustrated when you don't and then come up with the worlds thinnest excuse to get closer to you because I'm a hot mess of emotion.
> 
> Next time: It's 5k words, and what you've all been waiting for.


	33. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags.

 It’s an uneventful morning. They have breakfast, do a warm up and their work outs, then rinse off for lunch.

There, Pidge slides up to their table and starts talking a mile a minute at Keith about some Blades gadgets she’s been working on with a Galra named Kzarast. Shiro isn’t needed for the conversation, so he pulls out his communicator and scans through his messages.

A lot of junk, but then there’s one from a few hours ago from Kolivan. He clicks it open.

It’s a request to meet up when Shiro has a minute, preferably without Keith.

The summons cranks his anxiety right up. What could Kolivan want to talk about? And without Keith? It has to be about that Galra. Or maybe Keith’s health. Something maybe they need to handle discreetly?

His mind starts spinning in a hundred directions, each one worst than the last.

“Shiro?” Keith's voice breaks through, his hand on Shiro’s on the table. “What’s wrong?”

“I got a message from Kolivan, he wants to see me.”

“Well I’m almost finished.” Keith gestures to his lunch.

“Kolivan said without you, if possible.” Shiro frowns to indicate how he feels about that.

“Oh, uh.” Keith looks unhappy at this news too. “Okay. So you should go.”

But that’s just the thing. They’ve hardly been a room away from each other since The Incident. Shiro's anxiety seems to be getting a little better, but even just thinking about going to see Kolivan without Keith spikes his nerves.

It’s not healthy, this attachment. He knows this for certain. Just yesterday he was ready to be banished for being too clingy.

So he does need to go without him. Keith can go with Pidge and he’ll be fine. He _knows_ Keith of sound mind and body can take care of himself.

“Okay, and you’ll…”

“Hang out with Pidge.” He turns to Pidge who’s been patiently listening to their side conversation. “You can show me the hover hooks.”

“Yes!” Pidge leans in and wraps her arms around Keith. “Ill show you all the goodies!” Then she grins at Shiro. “And I will absolutely protect Keith from all threats against his person.” She gives him a mock salute.

Shiro smiles, lets the buzzing fears fall away. “Thank you Pidge, I shouldn’t be long.” He squeezes Keith’s hand before getting up with his lunch tray.

“Take your time,” Keith replies as he’s prying Pidge off his side. “I wanna make sure I properly appreciate all Pidge’s brilliant work.”

Pidge makes a noise of adoration and Keith grunts as he’s re-tackled.

Shiro leaves the cafeteria to the sound of their laughter, and he tries to hold on to that buoyancy.

##

Kolivan is busy when Shiro gets to his office, so he ends up waiting just down the hall that looks out into a Blades training area. There’s someone in a mask doing practice drills, and it’s hard to look away. The Blades style of fighting is so interesting and unique. Watching this person he can see exactly what Keith’s picked up for his own. Where he still has variance. It’s elegant, the way Blades move, made for stealth and beating an opponent stronger than you. Perfect for Keith.

He’s loses himself in watching the person, and doesn’t even notice when Kolivan approaches.

“Loohou is one of our newer recruits, but she certainly takes to the form, no?”

Shiro nods and then turns away. He’s here on a more pressing matter. “I got your message.”

“Come,” Kolivan says, turning to go back to his office. “And don’t worry, Keith’s in no danger. I only asked you to come alone so we could talk, and then you could deliver the news to Keith however you feel is appropriate.”

They enter his office and Kolivan takes a seat at the small couch set up. Shiro sits down across from him.

“I assume this is about Trak.”

“Yes.” Kolivan says. “Seven vargas ago I received an update from Krolia that she had tracked down the target. Depending on… method… it could be anywhere from ten to twenty vargas before mission conclusion. I expect by tomorrow morning I will have all the details for you should you want them. For now I just wanted to notify you that Krolia has found her target, and he is somewhere in the Nar-5-Fer quadrant, a very, very great distance from Keith.”

Shiro’s shoulders relax like a giant weight has come off them. “That’s great news!”

Kolivan smiles, it’s just a tiny lift of his mouth. “It is. I would have asked Keith here too but I wasn’t sure. Sometimes people can continue to be… fond of their abusers. I figured you would be the best judge of how he’s doing and what to pass on to him.”

“He’s doing great,” Shiro says, because it’s true. “He’ll be happy to know about Krolia’s mission.”

“Good.” There’s a pause and then, quieter, “So he’s doing okay?”

Shiro nods, then thinks on what it would be okay to share. “Yeah. I’m sure there will be things in the future, as I’m sure there are things now we haven’t dealt with, but Keith’s strong, resilient. We talk a lot, I think he's doing okay.”

Kolivan nods, but the stiffness of his expression softens just a smidge.

Shiro spends a little more time in Kolivan’s office after that chatting about their favorite pair of Galrans, work, and the soul-breaking labor of bureaucratic paperwork.

By the time he finally leaves Kolivan, Shiro finds himself feeling refreshed. It had been nice to catch up, to chat about easy topics. He hadn’t noticed how much he and Keith had become a cocoon of two.

Not that Shiro doesn’t love keeping Keith all to himself, but there’s something to be said for balance. For healthy boundaries. For talking to a fresh face once in a while. It's something to remember going forward.

##

Back at Keith’s apartment with no Keith, Shiro immediately starts to re-spiral. For once it’s not about Keith’s safety.

All he can think about is that this is their last night. Last sleepover, last late night chat, last cuddling in bed.

Or maybe when Keith comes home and Shiro tells him what Kolivan says, he’ll agree he no longer needs Shiro to stay with him.

Maybe those few seconds before Keith slipped out of bed this morning were it. _Fuck,_ and Shiro didn’t even properly appreciate them.

By the time Keith comes home over an hour later Shiro’s convinced himself he’s going to spend the night in his old apartment. The idea makes him shutter, ruins the peace he'd found in Kolivan's office.

“What’s wrong?” Keith says kicking off his shoes. “What did Kolivan say?” The cheer he’d come in with falls off him in exchange for worry.

“Oh, ah. No, it was good news. About your mom, the mission.”

Keith comes over to join him on the couch. “Then why do you look so glum?”

There’s no good answer to that. “Well, uh. First of all Kolivan said Krolia found ‘her target,’” Shiro does air quotes. “And there will be a final update tomorrow.”

Keith has almost no reaction to this. Just nods, eyes on Shiro. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Keith shrugs. “I mean sure, maybe later I’ll have a weird reaction about it, but for now it’s okay. I don’t care, I’m glad Mom's taking care of it. But why are you so upset?”

“It’s dumb.”

Keith nudges him. “All the more reason to get it out. Dumbs fester.”

“It’s just—“ he could blame it on not wanting to go back to the apartment. He could lie his way around it.

But then Shiro looks at Keith. He’s so brave and open, he deserves the same in return. “It means this is over. You don’t need me here. And I know I should go back to my apartment, that at some point I have to go deal with that." That's too close to talking around the issue. Shiro readjusts. "I just, I dunno, wanted more time. With you. Ugh.” He rubs his hands over his face to hide, his whole face feels hot. He’s a needy idiot.

Then Keith is there, encircling his wrists, pulling his hands away. “Hey,” he says when Shiro blinks at him. “It’s fine. It’s good news, but you don’t have to leave yet. Hell you could even stay on my couch if you need to while sorting the whole divorce thing. I know it started because of Trak but… I’m not pressed for an end date. I like hanging out with you… and maybe don’t tell the Blades, but I’ve kinda enjoyed the downtime.”

The relief is near bliss. Shiro slumps into Keith, who laughs lowly and squeezes him.

“Oh you worked yourself into a state didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” Shiro muffles into his shirt.

Keith hums happily. “I know, let’s go get some dinner and bring it back and watch some trash TV. That’ll help you relax.”

“Okay,” Shiro says, sitting back up. Keith smiles at him and he feels it diffuse the last of his tension. It’s going to be okay.

##

It is not going to be okay. Shiro knows this the second Keith’s thigh slings over his as the credits roll on the movie. They’re fresh off showers and dressed down in sleepwear, so Keith's weight is soft and warm in Shiro’s lap. His whole body perks up.

“So about last night,” Keith says meaningfully.

As if Shiro could forget. As if those words haven’t been haunting his every moment.  “Yeah?” His voice is steady, which is not a reflection of his insides.

“I—“ Keith lets go of a breath and wilts almost shyly, his fingers plucking at Shiro’s shirt. “Unless you don’t..?”

It’s an out that Shiro needs to take, his whole brain is screaming at him to do so, but then his hands wrap around Keith’s hips. “I do,” Shiro says.

Keith’s eyelashes flutter, he leans in partly to hide his face and partly to get closer to Shiro’s ear.

“Take me to bed?”

It’s as if Shiro no longer has control of his own body. His hands move to Keith’s ass, cupping it to support him as Shiro gets up. Keith’s arms and legs automatically wrap around him for support.

Shiro quick marches the two of them to the bedroom. His heart has started to beat hard in his chest.

Keith laughs when Shiro sets him down on the bed, untangling their bodies. “I didn’t mean quite so literally.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Keith holds out his hand. “Come here.”

Against every better sense Shiro goes. He crawls onto the bed, following Keith who scoots back to lie down.

He’s a vision there beneath Shiro, hair in a messy braid, eyes dark from the sliver of light coming in from the living room. _Mine_ , Shiro thinks.

Then he mentally shakes himself, holds onto rationality. “Are you sure?” He asks Keith.

The man licks his lips. Nods. “I need to know.”

Okay. Okay.

They divest each other of clothes slowly. It’s strange to just be doing this. There’s no kissing to distract, so Shiro has nothing to do but watch Keith’s skin be revealed piece by piece.

He can’t believe with all the sex they’ve already had he hasn’t actually seen Keith completely nude. They’ve never prioritized removing clothing.

But this is the big deal. This is what Keith wants. All in. _Fuck._

After Shiro removes the last stitch of clothing between them, fingers beckon him back up.

He drinks Keith in slowly. Long limbed and slender, Keith has a delicious curve to his hips and thighs, the muscles of his arms. Against his belly his cock is already flushed pink, the same shade at his lips. He’s spread out on the bed, breathtaking. Just for Shiro.

“Shiro,” Keith breathes, fingers curling around his wrist where it’s holding him up.

When Shiro looks at his face it’s nearly ruinous. Keith has a smile, small and private, and his eyes have gone half lidded. It’s an attractive look, both sensual and sweet. Keith is looking Shiro’s body up and down with undisguised interest. Their eyes meet.

The dangerous thing shifts in Shiro’s chest. It feels sacred, whatever is happening between them. What they’re about to do. Keith is bared just for him, trusting him to guide him through. To take care of him.

And Shiro is prepared to. It’s all he’s ever wanted. He knows that now.

“Come here,” Keith tugs a little at his wrist, wanting.

And Shiro’s already in the trap, so he goes closer, shifts down onto his elbows and drops his hips into Keith’s.

They both gasp at the skin contact, but neither of them move yet. Shiro is looking down at Keith, his arms framing that lovely face. He has the man pinned, but somehow it feels the other way around. As if there’s a gravity pulling him inexorably in.

“Hi,” he says. A whisper.

“Hey,” Keith says back, just as soft.

He doesn’t know why this feels so different, but it is. They’re both a little shy, tentative.

Shiro touches Keith’s cheek with his flesh hand. Moves a finger to tuck hair back behind Keith’s ear.  

Then Keith tilts his head into it and Shiro cups his face. Watches as Keith’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth parts.

They’re so close and it would be so easy to just—

But that’s not what Keith asked for. He’s here for something else.

Shiro takes a fortifying breath and strokes his hand down, grazing the long neck, shoulders, chest. _Sex_ , he reminds himself, this is about sex.

They’re going to need lube. Shiro curses himself for not thinking ahead and getting it already, he doesn’t want to move.

“I have, ah, in the drawer.” Keith bites at his lip, tilting his head up to gesture at the bedside table.

They’re so in sync it’s almost scary. Shiro leans up to wrestle with the drawer blindly, trying to ignore how the motion grinds their cocks together.

It’s just a moment for his metal hand to find something tube shaped, and when he pulls it out it is indeed a bottle of lube. _Keith’s lube_.

“Condoms?”

Keith’s cheeks are very pink now and he’s looking off to the side. “I’m clean. They test… you know. I mean if you want.”

That could mean anything. “What do you want?” Shiro asks.

“Just you.”

Shiro swallows hard. Pushes the bedside drawer closed. “Okay,” he says, more to himself than anything. He shifts directly off of Keith to perch beside him. “Okay,” He says again, looking at the bottle of lube.

He could go directly to opening Keith up. Should go directly to the sex part.

But it would be a crime to rush this. Keith’s so beautiful and he deserves to be cherished. Deserves to have someone take their time with him, make him feel good in more ways than just an orgasm.

Shiro sets the bottle down onto the bed. It’s too dangerous to put his mouth on Keith, so he decides to use just his hands.

Shiro touches Keith’s shoulders first, traces the muscles, the dip of his sternum. When Shiro checks to see if this is okay, Keith is just watching him steadily.

So he returns to everything he remembers Keith liking. The slow built up, the feather light touch. It’s only as he’s closing the circle, fingertip grazing the peak of one nipple, that Keith makes a sound.

It’s low, almost unconscious. Shiro takes it and presses it into his chest. He touches him again to hear it. Draws those sounds out one by one.

He spends an eternity here, following the lines of Keith’s torso, tracing scars and mapping freckles. Keith makes noise when he finds something sensitive, but is otherwise unbothered by Shiro’s pacing. His arm on Shiro’s side is looped under the bridge of Shiro’s metal arm and grazing soft circles into his back. It’s a soothing feedback loop that keeps Shiro steady.

By the time he reaches Keith’s lower abdomen, Keith’s cock is lying there in a small puddle of wetness practically begging to be touched. Shiro smears the liquid but avoids Keith’s cock, tracing down to the thatch of hair. He gives it a good scratch.

Keith’s hips rise then unconsciously, the fingers against his spine pause and then continue.

And then, because Shiro needs _something_ , his hand moves back up, scooping a little of that precome. Taking it to his mouth. He licks it off his fingers to Keith’s gasp.

“Shi-ro,” it’s a whine, a breathy two syllables.

Shiro takes his fingers out of his mouth, still wet, and touches the base of Keith’s cock. Shifts down to cup his balls.

“Yeah?” Shiro says.

Keith spreads his legs just as his fingers move down, grazing perineum and skimming his hole.

Keith heaves a breath at the first touch, hips shifting. Shiro remembers the trepidation of before so he moves extra careful here. Traces the rim and watches Keith’s face for any signs that he wants to stop.

But everything is a yes signal, including the nails beginning to scratch at his back.

Shiro grabs the lube.

Between their two free hands they pop the cap and Keith squeezes some out into Shiro’s fingers. It’s collaborative, intimate. When he looks at Keith, he’s smiling. Shiro has butterflies.

He doesn’t want to move away from Keith’s face, too caught by it, so he reaches back down blindly.

The lube is a little cold when it touches Keith’s skin, but Shiro soothes the man with a gentle touch. Traces the rim without any rush.

When he thinks he has Keith used to the sensation, he starts to press in with one finger.

There’s an immediate tensing, a cut off sound. Shiro pauses, waits for a signal to go forward or back off. Keith takes a breath and then forcibly relaxes. Shiro sees his free hand relax where it had grabbed tight at the sheets.

It’s slow going, but Shiro wouldn’t do it any other way. Keith’s tight and blazing around just one finger and it sends Shiro for a loop. He needs the slowness just to cope, just so he doesn’t lose it completely.

Shiro ignores the huff of Keith’s stubbornness when it comes, demanding he _get on with it_. He won’t risk hurting Keith for anything, so he lets this part take its time. Some things take _patience_.

When he says this to him, Keith digs his nails into Shiro’s back pettily. Shiro laughs.

It’s good, this low thrumming arousal as they open him up. Keith mostly keeps his eyes closed just to feel it, and Shiro drinks his fill watching him. It’s only when he finally gets Keith opened up to three fingers that he starts to feel a little unmoored. Shaken.  

Keith’s still blissfully tight and radiating heat, but now prepped it no longer seems impossible that Shiro’s cock will fit. And that reality is _a lot_ to manage.

Shiro’s cock. _In—_

He swallows the saliva, the feeling that rises at that thought. He has to focus on the process, step after step. Hold on to some sort of objectivity.

Keith’s cock has been hard throughout the fingering, and now is a deeper shade of red. It’s gorgeous and looks like absolute agony.

Keith’s face is the same. He’s a sweaty, beautiful mess, mussed from arching and turning his head against the pillows. Covered in sweat from how worked up Shiro’s gotten him.

For the most part Shiro avoided his prostate, but he couldn’t help a graze or two. Wanted a peek at what it was going to be like.

And the sounds he made every time Shiro brushed it were… _wow_. How Keith tightened around his fingers, almost pushing and pulling simultaneously. _Fucking fuck._

“Please,” Keith groans when Shiro skims around again, avoiding where Keith clearly wants him to touch.

“Please what?” Shiro can’t take his eyes off him. Loves watching all the little things. How Keith licks and bites at his lips, how his eyes keep fluttering closed when something feels especially good. How his body has started to move with Shiro’s fingers like he can’t help it.

“I’ve been _so patient!”_ Keith presses down on his fingers.

And he has. Keith’s given himself over completely to Shiro’s hands. Like a dream so impossible even his subconscious never dared to create it.

“I need it,” Keith continues. His face does something Shiro can’t interpret, but then there’s a desperation there, a sudden frantic and molten madness. His hand comes out of the sheets and he grabs at Shiro’s shoulder, tugs at him. “I need— you, _Shiro_ —“

It kicks Shiro in the chest. He pulls his fingers out and fumbles for the lube. “Okay, okay.”

There’s clumsy and quick movement then. Shiro gets a lubed fist on his cock, hissing from the coldness, from having spent an age not touching himself. Keith tugs frantically at him, trying to pull him between his legs.

Shiro just manages to get a pillow beneath Keith’s ass, but he smears lube everywhere when he has to put his hand down to stabilize himself.

And then he is braced over Keith. Between his legs.

Those legs that then wrap around his hips. _Unbelievable._

 Keith gasps, tugging him in now with both arms.

“ _Shiro_ ,” he moans when their bodies come together again.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Shiro pets his side with a sticky hand, tries to calm, but he’s starting to feel just as frazzled. Like one wrong step and he’s going to lose himself completely.

He reaches down for his cock to line himself up.

“ _Please_!” It’s this whine that does it. That hitches Shiro’s hips and slides him forward an inch, letting the head of his cock touch that slick hole. And _fuck,_ he’s never wanted anything more. Never been so hot in his own skin. He wants this, he needs this, and with Keith’s thighs locked around him tight, he knows Keith feels the same way.

After that it’s one wet slide forward. He presses in and doesn’t stop until his cock is buried in that heat.

Shiro gasps, drops his head into Keith’s shoulder. Keith trembles in response, hands clawing across his back, releasing a helpless cry.

“You’re— _fuck_ —“

Shiro makes a noise of inquiry.

“Big,” Keith gives a small breathy laugh. When Shiro opens his mouth Keith squeezes him, “and don’t say you’re sorry.”

Shiro shuts his mouth. His cheeks are blazing. “You’re tight,” he says instead.

Keith groans.

They stay there clutched together, breathing and not moving. The enormity of it has pierced Shiro, he has to press his mouth to Keith’s skin to contain it. He doesn’t think, doesn’t think, doesn’t think. Tries desperately not to let the feeling overwhelm him.

They soften in degrees, fists unclenching, breath steadying, until it feels like the world will hold together just a little bit longer.

“Okay,” a wobbly whisper from Keith, a hot breath on the side of Shiro’s head.

Shiro braces himself and pulls out, slides his hips back.

It’s electric. Catastrophic. Keith is fire and tightness, too much and not enough. When Shiro opens his eyes he sees his face and it’s—

He grits his teeth, forces himself to look away so it doesn’t destroy him. So it doesn’t lodge free the thing inside his chest clawing to get out.

He breathes and breathes.

But it’s barely better a moment later when he slides his cock back in and Keith moans. His eyes open and he can’t help seeing those lips, the shape they take in his pleasure. It wrings Shiro out.

“ _Keith_ ,” it falls out of his mouth, a prayer or a curse. Keith’s legs tighten, they leverage to help him move in tandem with Shiro.

Still it stays slow between them. Shiro slides deep, working on the angle, and Keith just smooths the motion, graceful without trying. Every time they come together it causes twin sounds of pleasure to break against one another. They try to catch their breaths between the waves but it's a drown.

And then Shiro hits his prostate as gasoline to the fire. That molten energy returns in Keith as he cries out, head thrown back, fingers making claw marks on Shiro’s shoulder blades. He’s so hot Shiro almost can’t stand it.

He thrusts in again on that angle, makes sure to keep hitting that spot. Every time is louder, better than the last. Keith’s building and gasping, trying to make words that fall apart into pleasure sounds. He pulls at Shiro and his hips grind down to perfectly match. To ruin them.

“Shi— _oh_ — it’s—“ the more he hits it the wilder Keith becomes until Shiro is forced to collapse further down and pin him in place. To fuck him the way he’s crying out to be fucked. Everything is burning and it can’t last, but Shiro wants it to. Wants to stay in this place forever where everything is half a second away from destruction because it’s _so, so good—_

Keith tilts his head toward him, gasping. They’re close, too close. Breathing each other’s air, agonized cries spilling out between them.

On the next thrust Shiro bumps his nose with Keith. All of his nerves are sizzling, the need almost louder than the way his brain is trying to warn him—

He can see Keith’s pupils have changed, a hint of Galra around the purple. Beautiful, beautiful eyes that look at him dazed and wanting. It aches, worse when Keith’s nose touches his cheek, bumps his nose. Nuzzles. He’s right here for the taking, Shiro thinks. Right here moaning and moving on Shiro’s cock. It wouldn’t be anything to press in the last inch, to take those pink lips on offer.

His hips move faster, drive in harder. He’s close but he tries to hold out, tries to make it good. Keith’s lips are just grazing his cheek now with sounds Shiro will never be able to scrub away. _Stars he wants, he wants—_

He reaches his human hand down between them for Keith’s cock. It’s absolutely dripping and it’s all Shiro can do to get a grip and start to jerk him off.

Keith rises like a wave, their lips nearly brush in a chorus. In a plea. It’s splintering, swamping. Shiro can’t breath with how it gets inside him. Tugs at his heart with the same ferocity that Keith’s claws have on his back.

“ _Taka_ —“ a sweet, barely-there sound falls from Keith’s lips. So gentle Shiro would have missed it if he wasn’t so close. But he didn’t and—

Hearing it is like dominoes, like Murphy’s law on a cosmic scale. Wildly, he thinks of Curtis saying, _I’m not your center star._ And it was true, so blisteringly true that Shiro can’t believe he’s lived so long not knowing. Because this is it, this _radiant man._

His center star. A gravity he doesn’t want to escape.

“ _Baby_ ,” his chest is cracking, it’s all cracking. “ _Keith_.” He fucks into him frantically, but it’s those eyes he’s watching, the way they widen and then blink with glossy tears. Shiro feels his own pricking, the emotion ripping down the last of his barriers.

And then there’s nothing left between them. Shiro crosses the distance and kisses him.

Soft for just a second, and then Keith is moving, tugging, sliding them together for a deeper kiss. They come together like it’s nothing, like it’s supposed to be. They’re together and one.

Kissing Keith is pressure and relief. Warmth and electricity.

Shiro opens his mouth and tastes sweat and sweetness. Tears and adoration. _Keith and Keith and Keith._

It’s everything.

Keith licks at his lips, slides his tongue against his. It’s sloppy and hot and they’re both making frantic noises into each other’s mouths. Shiro needs to breathe but he can’t, he can’t because he’s kissing Keith.

“I- ah—“ Keith mumbles between kisses.

And Shiro feels it too. The love and madness. The edge they’re approaching.

But instead of fear he feels the thrill. They’re here, on the same page. Keith sucks on his tongue, whimpers, holds him. And Shiro starts to fuck him hard. Kisses him back just as ardently.

“ _Baby_ ,” he breathes as it approaches, as their free hands find each other and lace together. As the tears drip down his cheeks.

He kisses the cries from Keith’s mouth when the man starts to come. He moves his hips and hand in sync, trying to hold the reigns as long as possible. Keith’s transcendent, the most beautiful thing Shiro’s ever seen, and when he starts to pulse around Shiro’s cock, that’s the end for him.

His orgasm rolls over him like the only thing left in the universe. He groans into Keith, hips moving automatically, pleasure so crushing he can’t do anything but go with it. He smears his mouth against Keith’s, making sounds that don’t mean anything. That mean everything.

It sears him of everything he was before.

It goes on. The feelings so thick and dripping he almost doesn’t realize he’s slowing, that his hand has stopped moving on Keith’s messy cock. At the last pulse he realizes his eyes are closed, his lungs are burning, his skin is blistering hot.

He’s the best kind of destroyed.

Then, as if all his strings have been cut, he collapses into Keith. Below him there’s a grunt, a hand in his squeezes.

It’s silence for a long time. Shiro can’t think. Can’t even open his eyes. The float is so good and sweet he doesn’t even try to fight it. He’s happy. Warm. Tired.

Sometime later when his brain begins to churn again, it pings him a reminder that he’s lying on Keith. Likely crushing him.

It’s a mammoth amount of effort to push himself up and flop over onto his back beside Keith.

Keith makes a sound of gratitude. Shiro hums.

They lie there more cooling off. Shiro’s becoming aware of sweat everywhere, the slick spill of Keith’s come across his belly, and the drying tears on his lashes. His cock is cold and wet and down for the count.

_Fucking hell._

“Wow,” Keith croaks after another minute.

He sounds as awed as Shiro feels, and it startles a laugh out of him. “Yeah.”

“Was that,” Keith starts but doesn’t finish.

“Yeah,” Shiro says again.

Keith takes an audible breath. “We should talk about that.”

_About that._ “Maybe.” Shiro smiles and Keith laughs. They’re both a little loopy. Shiro feels so light he could float.

“In the shower?”

The idea sounds amazing, but the application of standing right now might not pan out. “Yeah, but I need a minute. Or two. Ten.”

Keith rolls and cuddles up to his side. He smells strongly of sex, and his eyes are red from crying.

But _stars_ , Shiro loves him. _Loves him._

He wraps his arm around Keith and drops a kiss onto his forehead.

Keith makes a small, happy noise, and Shiro’s defenseless. Totally gone on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep breath* This chapter was a labor of love, and I hope I did them justice. If you loved it please leave a comment!! (I'm totally going to not be shy and respond for these last three chapters ooooooh)
> 
> Next time: A double post to finish this story off! One in the AM and one in the PM, and yes one of those is a Trak chapter...   
> (sheith happy ending is all I write, so don't fret)


	34. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags.

 Between exhaustion and giggling, it takes a very long time to get to the shower. Shiro’s skin is itchy and he _smells,_ but it’s background noise to the man in his arms. To the heart-stopping smiles Keith keeps trying to hide against his skin.

But they do make it, because the haze eventually does lift, and Shiro wants to get to the talking bits.

“Very hot,” Keith says behind him, undoing his ruined braid as Shiro turns the knobs of the shower.

“Why thank you,” Shiro says.

Keith scoffs, smacks him softly on the ass. “The water you idiot.”

Shiro hums and adjusts it so before turning around. “Your idiot now,” he says, feeling bold. It’s hard not be after… all that.

Keith still looks like a wreck. His favorite wreck. And now that they’re standing there’s come dripping—

“Oh yeah?” Keith saunters closer, wrapping his arms around Shiro to kiss him.

His cock shouldn’t even be able to fake interest at this point, but he feels the arousal fizzle. Keith is just _so—_

“Yeah,” Shiro says when they part. Then he steps back toward the spray and beckons Keith.

It’s too hot on his shoulders at first, but the way that Keith sighs and steps back into his space beneath the spray makes it all worth it.

Hands slide up and down his back. Keith kisses his shoulder. “Is this real?” He asks.

Shiro shifts them a little to block the water with his back so he can tip Keith’s face up. He cups it gently, adoringly. Kisses him over and over until the lips beneath his crack into a smile.

“Convincing?”

“Shiroooo,” Keith whines and hides his face back in Shiro’s throat.

“What?”

Keith’s fingers crawl up and over his shoulder, trace his neck and down his chest. It’s a nice counterpoint to the water that’s starting to feel soothing on his overworked muscles. “I want to say something.” Keith says. “And I don’t want you to interrupt.”

Shiro holds him tight, heart fluttering with how shy Keith’s being right now. He can cut right to the point when he wants to, but then there’s these moments of bashfulness that just kill him. In the best way. “Okay,” Shiro says and mimes zipping his mouth.

Keith huffs. Kisses his throat. “I know that was… something.” Keith says. “That you felt it too. But I meant what I said at the clone facility. I love you, I’ve loved you for a long time. And that doesn’t… you don’t have to say it back. We can… go slow. I know you have all the stuff with Curtis to work out. And maybe, maybe those feelings aren’t over, but— but I would be a fool not to tell you now. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you now. That I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Keith pulled away to say this, but his eyes are on Shiro’s chest where his fingers are drawing nervous shapes.

There’s a beat of silence, then, “Can I talk now?”

Keith nods but still doesn’t look at him.

Shiro gently turns them and backs him up against the shower wall. Presses them completely together, drawing a gasp and Keith’s eyes.

“I’m in love with you too,” Shiro says. He stares him straight in the eyes and says it with every bit of conviction in his chest.

Keith’s eyes go wide and his mouth opens and then closes. It's adorable. Charming.

“What?”

Shiro kisses his cheek. “Yep.”

“Since when?”

Shiro kisses his other cheek. “Since forever.”

“But—!”

Shiro kisses him on the mouth. “But what?”

“But Curtis!”

“He already knows. Knew.”

“ _What_?!”

Shiro laughs at Keith’s expression. It’s half outrage half confusion. Then he grows serious, leans in to trap Keith there against the wall, to speak the words quiet and just for him. “He said something to me during our last conversation,” Shiro thumbs at Keith’s cheek, traces it back to his ear. “He said he wasn't my center star. I didn’t think much of it then, didn’t understand what he was trying to say. But when you and I were—“ Shiro takes a breath, his fingers trailing down to Keith’s lips. He can be brave. Worthy of this precious man. “When I was making love to you those words came back to me. And he was right. Because he isn’t my star, it’s you. It’s always been you. The whole time, _the_ _whole time,_ I’ve been circling you.”

Keith’s lip quivers, and his eyes are bright and wet.

“Oh baby don’t cry!” Shiro says just as Keith cracks and falls to pieces in his arms.

The sobs come and they cling to one another. “Then don’t—“ Keith says, choking on tears, “Don’t say the sappiest shit of all time—!”

“Sorry!” Shiro’s teary now too.

Keith smacks his side. “Thought we weren’t—“ he rubs his face with one hand, “gonna apologize any more.”

Shiro rubs his back, touches his hair. “I think that was about saying thank you.”

Keith huffs, the sobs slowing. “Shut up you dumb idiot,” his voice is a croak but so, so fond.

“But then how will I tell you I love you?” He kisses Keith’s hair, his forehead, and when he tips his head back, his lips.

Keith hums and Shiro is glad to see the tears stop. “Wow,” Keith says, wiping his eyes. “I’m exhausted.”

“Mind blowing sex and a love confession will do that to you.” Shiro smiles, he can’t help it. He feels like he’s absolutely radiant.

“So what’s next then?”

“Hmm,” Shiro strokes lines down his body, ending with his hands cupping Keith’s ass. His horny brain is just starting to come back online and is reminding him he has a very naked and very wet Keith pressed against a shower wall.

And he’s itching to know if he moves his fingers further down if he would find Keith still loose and wet. Still full of his come.

“We should definitely shower,” Shiro says, trying to stay on program. Keith _just said_ he was tired. “And then maybe some cuddling.”

Keith’s smile moves from sweet to sinister, nails running across his stomach, his abdomen. Then there’s a hand wrapping around his cock. His hard cock. Because Shiro has no self control anymore.

“And where does this come in?”

“Ah,” is all Shiro is capable of as Keith’s hand starts moving.

“Speechless? Good, then it’s my turn to make you cry.”

All of a sudden Keith’s switched their positions. It’s a huge turn on how Keith can manhandle him. He’s never been with a partner that could. The cold shower wall presses into his back and he’s all on board with whatever Keith is doing.

“Re-angle the shower head,” Keith says, and then drops to his knees.

“Keith!” Shiro fumbles first with the water, moving the stream out of the way so it won’t be in Keith’s face. “Wait!”

Keith looks up at him. He’s so stunning. His hair is wet and loose against his back, lips pink and parted. “What?”

“You just said you were exhausted.”

Keith gives him a look. Then adds, “Horny trumps tired.” He leans back in.

“Wait!” Shiro says again.

Keith looks up at him expectantly.

“You should, uh… clean,” Shiro doesn’t know why he’s suddenly embarrassed, but he is. He gestures at his cock.

Keith’s skepticism transforms into pleasure. “Good point,” He says reaching for the bar of soap just to their right. “We should clean you up a little.”

And _oh,_ Shiro did not foresee this coming. How Keith takes his cock in one hand and the soap in the other. Begins to slide it over his head to suds.

Shiro’s washed himself a thousand times and a bar of soap has absolutely never made him feel like this. But in Keith’s hands?

There’s nothing to grip at in the shower and little else to look at so he’s stuck watching Keith give him the most erotic soaping up of his entire life.

At one point it even includes jerking him nice and slow to _really get all that soap rubbed in_. It shouldn’t be stupidly hot, but Shiro’s weak for everything about Keith.

Finally Keith drops the soap back into it’s dish and asks Shiro to adjust the shower head again.

Keith closes his eye for the rinse, not moving from his position. When Shiro moves the water away he blinks his eyes open, locking onto Shiro.

“So, any more protests?” Shiro’s cock has been angled just to his lips, moving as he speaks.

“N-no,” Shiro breathes.

Keith swallows him down until is nose is pressed to Shiro’s skin.

How does he even _do_ that?! “Keith,” he moans, touches at his hair, his ears, his shoulder.

There’s a rumbling of sound around his cock. He curses.

“I can’t believe— you—“ Shiro swallows. “You’re so hot, you don’t even know,” he says. He feels unmoored, the words just coming right up. There’s nothing to stop them anymore. “A dream. You’re— fuck— everything.”

Keith swallows around him and pulls back when he needs air. Shiro watches helplessly when his cockhead slips out of those lips. When Keith brushes it around his mouth, tongue peeking out to lap at the precome oozing out.

“Do you dream of me?” Keith asks.

“Yes.”

“Like this?” He sticks out his tongue and puts Shiro’s cock on it, runs it across the wet surface so Shiro can see.

“Like this. Like before. I couldn’t stop— once I knew what it was like to hold you—“

At this Keith plunges his cock back down into his throat.

Shiro cries out and bangs his head against the tiled wall. Keith begins to move faster, sucking and licking and swallowing.

“Used to see you… with him. And— _ah_ , I was so jealous. Used to,” he huffs a laugh and a sigh as Keith sucks. “Used to stand in the cold shower trying not to touch myself because you were in my head.” He groans, closer ever second. “Always in my head. Wanted you— _fuck_ , wanted you to be mine.”

There’s a rumble around his cock, the exquisite tightness, a swallowing.

“Please tell me you’re mine,” Shiro begs, hanging on to the last few moments before orgasm.

A hand touches his on the tiled wall. He lifts it automatically and their fingers thread together. _Yes_ , says the squeeze of Keith’s hand in his, _I’m_ _yours_.

When he looks down those eyes are looking up. His beautiful mouth wrapped around Shiro’s cock.

He comes, crying Keith’s name.

##

After a round of actual washing in slightly chilled water, they finally make it back to the bed. Shiro's brain is still circling the confirmation that _yes_ , Keith does in fact get off to blowing him. _Fuck_.

It makes him want to take care of Keith. To lie him down in a clean bed and kiss him breathless. So when they get to the bed he makes Keith wait, naked and amused, as he fusses changing the bed sheets.

“You know,” Keith says when they’re finally snuggled together under the new sheets. “I’m yours if you’re mine.”

They’re on their sides facing each other. It’s intimate and warm. “Always.” Shiro says.

Keith smiles and kisses him. Then something else comes over his expression. “So what about Curtis?”

Shiro traces his features. Can’t get enough of touching this man. “When Curtis comes back we’ll finalize the divorce, I’ll…” he thinks of something then that could be a problem. “Keith, would it be okay if we don’t live together yet?”

The surprise on Keith’s face is easy to understand.

“It’s just—“ Shiro jumps back in quickly, afraid of Keith getting the wrong impression. “I know this isn’t new,” he gestures between them, “but I want to do it right. I don’t want to rush,” Keith raises an eyebrow at him, “Rush any more.  I want to put space between that part of my life and the next part. Take you on a proper date, do some wooing.”

“Shiro, I already love you.”

“And I love you, but you deserve to be treated as special as you are. I want to take you out and do all those cute dating things.“

Keith’s cheeks are already pinking and it’s so charming Shiro has to pause to lean in and kiss him.

“So I think… I’d like to move into my own place. Just for now. If that’s okay?” In his heart he’d love to just move into Keith’s place, but he meant what he said. Keith deserves a real relationship, the entire build up.

And Curtis deserves to have some space for their divorce to be worked through.

Plus Shiro knows once he’s with Keith that that’s it for him, and he wants to start it in the best circumstances possible. That means doing all the work to avoid so much as a whisper of the word _rebound_ coming anywhere near Keith.

“Can we still have sleepovers?” Keith asks.

“Absolutely,” Shiro says, because nothing on earth could make him give this up.

“Then whatever you want to do is okay with me.” And he can see on Keith’s face that he means it. That he hasn’t taken Shiro’s words to mean that he loves him any less.

“How’re you so perfect?” Shiro says.

Keith snorts. “If I am then it’s only because of you. You’ve infiltrated me with your goodness.” Keith pokes him playfully in the side.

Shiro grins, “Oh have I? Well just you wait, I’ll infiltrate you with something far, far better,” his fingers tickle up Keith’s sides and the man howls, half kicks at Shiro with laughter.

“Oh my god Shiro! You’re the worst, we were having a moment!” Keith’s snatched up his hands and is trying to look stern but his eyes are too bright with good humor.

“Baby I’m always having a moment when I’m with you,” Shiro bats his eyes once, twice.

Keith gives a heavy sigh and kisses his nose. “How do you do that, be so dumb and so charming at the same time?”

“It’s a gift.”

“Uh huh,” Keith says. “So to recap,” he tucks Shiro’s hands against his chest. “We’re dating, you’re moving into your own apartment… when are we going back to work?”

Shiro still has buckets of leave. “When do you want to?” Then an idea comes to him. “We could take another week off, go on a honeymoon.”

Keith laughs. “We haven’t even been on a first date!”

“So we’re a little out of order.”

Keith prods him in the chest. “Weren’t you just making some very astute and mature points about putting distance between Curtis and me?”

Shiro has grace enough to feel guilty. “Then maybe we just call it R&R, a vacation for both of us since it’s been a hell of a few months.”

Keith hums, his finger moving to trace Shiro’s mouth. “Sounds a lot like a sexcation.”

“Well we shouldn’t rule that out.”

Keith laughs, bright and happy, and Shiro just has to kiss him. And then kiss him. And then kiss him again.

##

They wait to request the additional week of vacation until Krolia returns. It’s only another two days, so hardly any trouble, and if they’re going away Shiro wants Keith to see his mom first.   

In the meantime Shiro takes care of his own stuff. He doesn’t want to do much with his old apartment until he hears from Curtis, but he sets in motion the paperwork for his own place.

On the day Krolia touches down, Shiro's assigned a new apartment.

He leaves Keith to catch up and takes his clothes and toiletries to his new place.

It’s still weird and empty when he finishes putting those away. Most of his stuff is still in the old apartment, but that’s okay. This is the apartment he’ll get to love Keith in. The walls they’ll kiss and cuddle and build their relationship within. Just the thought of it warms him to the new space.

He can’t wait.

##

Keith’s asleep beside him in his new apartment, hair stuck to cheek, drool pooling into the pillow.

Shiro _adores_ him _._

It’s hard still to believe they’re here. That love could feel like this. Huge and all encompassing. Safe and as easy as breathing.

He watches Keith until the morning light begins to make its way into the bedroom. Until he can’t help himself and has to touch that lovely skin.

He traces the scar on Keith’s face and remembers the hour the night before they spent talking about it. They’d cried, held each other, and shared their fears in the darkness.

It was happening more and more, this kind of talking, dealing with the piles of things they’d never gotten to. Healing just one layer at a time, messy and never straightforward.

But Shiro didn't mind at all because this was Keith, his best friend, his favorite person in the whole of this reality. There was no safer place to undress himself. It went back and forth between them and Shiro liked that. Liked being with someone who got him, who was haunted and sometimes too sharp in the same ways Shiro could be. Liked that they were always in step with each other and knew what to say because it’s what they wanted to hear.

He touches the scar now and feels nothing of the shame that plagued him the night before. Feels grateful only to be here, to have made it through everything and still be worthy of this man.

Those eye lashes flutter, Keith’s eyes opening a little to take him in.

“Takashi?”

It gives him a full body swoop every time. It’s the same feeling he gets taking his hoverbike off a cliff, free and wild but safe knowing exactly where he’s going to land.

“Good morning starlight,” Shiro says. He leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth.

It curls up in a sleepy smile.

“Mornin’”

They pass a few more kisses back and forth, sour and wet and gross and perfect.

“Do we really have to go back to work?” Keith stretches, starfishing into his space with a satisfied groan.

Shiro hums. It’ll be a long day filled with back-paperwork and meetings and rumors. He even has agreed to meet Curtis at lunch.

“But vacation was so nice,” Keith says. His hand creeps down Shiro’s abdomen meaningfully.

“Sexcation,” Shiro says with a grin.

“Not on the clock yet, are we?” Keith says. They both know the lighting in this room means they still have hours before they have to be somewhere.

A hand wraps around his cock, and Shiro doesn’t even know when he got hard.

“Might have time for one more romp,” Shiro says.

Then he rolls over, tackling Keith into the sheets and pinning him with a deep and filthy kiss.

##

After, they lay tangled and sweaty, foreheads pressed together. It’s so domestic and simple it takes Shiro’s breath away. He can’t believe he almost didn’t have this. It makes him sad in a weird way. Maudlin.

“What’s that face?” Keith asks a moment later.

Fingers come up to touch the edge of his jaw where he’s clenching, then the crease between his eyebrows.

Shiro swallows, tries to put it into words.

“I feel like,” he says, “For the first time in a long time I’ve arrived someplace intentionally. Before, things just happened to me, I never had any choice, I just went with the next thing in front of me. But with you not a single moment of it was accidental.” Shiro takes a breath around the knot suddenly in his throat. “And then I just think, what if I hadn’t? What if I had missed one of those choices, what if I’d just kept living that incidental life?”

Keith’s expression is intense, thoughtful. Then he says, “I think about the what if’s too. What if I hadn’t gone out to the desert, if I hadn’t kept searching empty space… but we’ve already lived through the worst. Truthfully we did miss each other a dozen times, and we can't change that. I don't know, maybe we both had to see what the incidental life was like. All I know is that I’m glad we’re here now. I’m glad you chose me.”

“I’m glad you chose me,” Shiro says with all his heart.

Keith pulls their woven hands to his own chest and presses it over his heart. “I love you Takashi Shirogane.”

Shiro smiles. “And I love you, Keith Soon-To-Be-Shirogane.”

Keith looks in turn confused, then surprised, then faux displeased.

“We’ve gone on two dates!”

Shiro grins. “When you know, you know.”

Keith laughs and rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are a little pink. “One of these days we are really gonna need to talk about your affinity to shotgun marry.”

Shiro groans and buries his face in Keith’s shoulder. “Baby it was one time!”

"One time too many," he grumps, then kisses the top of Shiro's head.

They've talked a lot about it in the past week, and as lighthearted as the joking is, Shiro knows now how it hurt Keith. There's no blame or shame, there's no space left between them for that, but Shiro takes that hurt seriously. He's dedicated to the work of healing them, however long it takes. As many times as it takes. "I'm yours," Shiro says, squeezing him tight. "Forever and ever."

Keith sighs happily. "Keith Shirogane, huh?"

Shiro kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for our boys! I know I didn't grab every loose thread, but a lot of them take so much more time and I didn't want it to feel rushed or unrealistic. They're happy, they're healing, and together!  
> (And Shiro will continue to make poorly-concealed marriage jokes until he gets to put a ring on it because he's trying to be patient and responsible but also Keith is HIS and everyone needs to know!!!)
> 
> Coming later today: Wait, what ever happened with Trak?


	35. Trak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: drugging, implied violence.

Trak adjusts the eyepatch and sighs, looking over his datapad. It’ll be a hard two weeks of assignments, but he hopes by the end of it he’ll have enough credits to buy what he needs to get back to Keith.

He said he’d do anything, so this is it.

When the bartender comes back Trak orders another drink. He’s been doing this too often for the work that needs to get done, but he can’t help it. It’s easier when he’s drunk to pull up his best mental fantasies of Keith. And the only thing that gets him to sleep these days is milking his knot to the thought of finally sliding back into that gorgeous mouth.

He reaches down and adjusts himself. The bartender drops by his fresh drink, “Courtesy of,” the man nods over Trak’s shoulder.

“Hello.” A stranger takes up the seat next to him the bar. Trak turns and looks them over critically. He’s had both successes and failures in bar pickups since he’s left Earth. But even the successes aren't Keith.

The stranger is a robot, one of those AI species. The face has little notable features, the voice tinny. Still, Trak looks the body up and down.

Good proportions, just about right for Trak to imagine a different slender beauty.

“Hey.”

“I read it is customary to purchase a drink for someone you are courting,” the AI says.

Trak grins. He’s starting to get an idea about how this night is going to go, and it’s better than his own fist. Most AI have exceptionally modded cunts, so it might be just what he needs before heading off this rock.

“I’d never turn down a drink from a sweet little thing like you. You got a name?”

The AI tilts its head down as if shy. “L1A.”

Trak turns more toward L1A. Even if it’s a programmed show of submission, he can’t help enjoying it. He puts a hand on the slender thigh, claws dipping just on the inside. Just ever so slightly inappropriate.

“Kar,” Trak says, it’s the faux name on his new identification. “Well L1A, you looking for some conversation, or would you rather move this into the activity portion of the evening?”

There’s a chirruping sound from L1A that Trak assumes is a laugh. “Do you live close?”

Trak gulps down the drink and then picks up his datapad to pay off his tab. “My ship's not too far.”

L1A puts their hand over his on their thigh and moves it just an inch higher. The tunic they’re wearing is tantalizingly short. Trak can’t wait to see what’s under there. “I would love to see your ship.”

Trak grins, getting up and looping an arm around the AI. They’re so small against him and he’s already a little tight in his pants just from imagining how he can have them. It’s so difficult to find small aliens to bed.

He leads them out of the bar and in the direction of his ship.

##

There’s half a dozen security and cloaking protocols, but Trak undoes them almost without looking. On the walk he’s gotten his claws up the back of that tunic and the ass on L1A is—

Well, he is going to have a long and _excellent_ night. The perfect thing to tide him over until he can get back to his sweet little toy.

“The new Ljear Model, this is very impressive.” L1A says when they get inside.

It is nice, but Trak isn’t in the mood to talk ships. His cock is hard and he needs it in whatever holes this AI is hiding.

“The bedroom is better,” he says and glides them along.

The lights come on dim as they sit on his bed. Immediately he pulls L1A onto his lap, cupping that full ass in his palms.

“I’m dying to see what you’ve got under there babe,” Trak says, teasing the edge of the tunic.

L1A makes a sound. Maybe of agreement? Amusement? Doesn’t matter. Trak gets the end of the tunic and starts to slide it up.

But there’s a sudden movement, so quick he doesn’t catch it, only feels the sting of something sinking into his neck.

“I think you’re really going to be surprised,” L1A says as they discard the used needle beside him. Trak tries to move, to shove or maim the AI, but already his limbs are sluggish, are becoming dead-weight.

“Whadfk,” Trak’s tongue is heavy in his mouth.

“Shh,” L1A says. “It’s a paralytic, so there’s no use in fighting it.” They ease Trak back to lying flat on the bed, and then get up off his lap.

“I considered a lot of ways,” L1A says, and then strips off their gloves. There’s skin beneath, actual skin not synthetic, and it’s purple. “Almost came in the middle of the night to slit your throat,” the person strips the leggings off, the AI body disappearing and revealing a sleek black suit.

“But then I thought,” they reach and remove the helmet. Because it’s a helmet and _not a faceplate_. “Why not spend sometime getting to know my sons boyfriend?”

The face is familiar, Galran.

_Krolia._

Her mouth split wide in a mean, feral grin.

Trak can’t breathe. His heart has jumped to battering in his chest, but his lips are numb and useless. He makes a gurgling sound of protest.

“Yes,” Krolia says, reaching behind her to produce her blade. The purple light paints sinister, harsh lines on her face. She leans closer, the blade tip hovering just above Trak’s cock. “Let’s get to know each other a little more intimately, shall we?”

For the first time in a very long time, Trak feels a real and all-encompassing terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the very least I don't think he's getting out of that with all his... appendages. But feel free to imagine as much or as little gratuitous violence as you like!
> 
> *throws confetti* Thank you for reading and commenting!! This was the first plot-y fanfic I've written in... ages and it was SO FUN! Thank you and goodnight! *bows and falls over*
> 
>  
> 
> ***Other Anon works from this author (pls check the tags)***  
> ["Bend to Break" by Anon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662662/chapters/44259007)  
> [Providing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255062)


End file.
